SMALL SPACES, SPIDERMAN, ART PROJECTS
I watched Sam Raimi’s Spiderman 3 tonight while contemplating two blank canvases in front of me. Also while calculating opportunities for chance encounters, thinking about rearranging some furniture, experimenting with different travel dates on my calendar, and wondering in general about everything and everyone in my past that may or may not be in my future. It was a busy evening.
With regards to Spiderman 3: I argue that New York is not a character in this film as it has been in the other films, or in most other films “set in New York.” I mean, yes, this is a set-driven film — Peter’s apartment, Harry’s penthouse, J. Jonah Jameson’s Daily Bugle office, a few good construction sites for fight scenes. The city of New York however, under seige from the various villians, is generally lacking in personality. Might as well be Chicago. Or LA. Why do I care about this? Why am I thinking about this at all? Because while my opinion of Spiderman 3 as a film might be so-so, my opinion of Peter Parker’s one-room hovel is extraordinarily high — I think it’s a fantastic set, I wish I could live in it, and that makes me miss New York.
See, I like small spaces; I like the simplicity of them. I was so disappointed when, on my second move to NY, I ended up in a giant loft instead of a tiny cubbyhole. I wanted the LES cubbyhole, I really did. Wanted to handcraft a fold-down kitchen table and make very very small dinners. Wanted a reason to get rid of all the crap I owned.
I still do.
Though I have no time at the moment to think about a future past my thesis, I can’t help but skirt the restriction in this way: instead of contemplating a future Where, I am constantly thinking of a future What. As in, “what will my next little living space look like?” In an anonymous city, USA, I apparently desire a one-room, claustrophobic dingy space รก la Peter Parker’s residence in the Spiderman films. Imagine that, if you will: me, two cats, a bed, a desk, my clothes, my books — all jammed into a space the size of my current bedroom, but without the additional luxury of the office and living room I’ve got now. Why?
I think it’s that since the larger, grander plan was rendered obsolete, my instinct is to go in the extreme opposite direction. Instead of imagining lovely garden layouts, or kitchens for two, or front porches, or any of the domestic romance that I’m usually so fond of, I’m focusing on the image of an aggressive Polish landlord, a door that doesn’t work, and a leaky radiator. I’m rolling my eyes at myself right now. Yes, right now.
Oh, one last thing. I’m working on a painting for the first time in years. Two paintings really, but only because I had two small canvases instead of one large one. The image below is preliminary. That’s after the gessoing, putting in some background color, and masking out pieces of cities and states. (Can you guess what is what? Some are combinations; some are invented. Hint: in the photo one of the canvases is upside down and on the wrong side of the other.) What follows is detail work, extra color, depth blah blah blah. I have no idea of what it’ll actually end up looking like. I only know the motivation behind it. Which, for the moment, I’d like to keep to myself.
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