overcast and the air is light and clear. the lacking of shadows makes everything more transparent. its feeling very weekendish. easy to take time and do nothing.

standing near piazza san lorenzo......the sun finaly steps in front of the clouds. that angle where it is difficult to see much beyond a great draping cloth of light. while the rain continues to sprinkle downward. one of those questionable moments with the sun and rain together. maybe easier just to admire such contradictions.

puts into perspective my experience inside the museum today. to me impressionism is both confounding and poetic. i tend to enjoy images that portray light as the most valuable source of information. particularly between shadows and the object that is casting. as of now Alfred Sisley's paintings. anything to do with snow and trees. for i find myself to be nostalgic in the fall. and yes michigan snow is something i have a considerable longing for.

what draws me towards impressionistic painting is both its defiance towards the literalisms capable in photograhy while essentially expressing a nuance that is similar to the making of a successful photograph. something composed almost entirely to a rhythm.

what i tend to enjoy about a photograph is its compositions with light and their distinctive gradations. yet to me impressionism conveys an impenatrable quality that seems evaisive of depth both by lacking contrast while still implying gradation. something essentially more transparent then photography when under-analyzed yet possibly more two-dimensional when over-analyzed.

my shoes have several holes in them. when it rains i feel all the water in the streets. it is sometimes refreshing to have wet socks. sometimes it is better to have dry socks.

i have now moved into my painting studio! the school was generous enough to carve me out a space. now i make it into my house. stacking boards around me. table lamps and thickly painted paper stuck to the walls. it was becoming

 to much of a mess to paint inside my room.

the building is old with tiny dusty nooks to pass by. there is a rooftop terrace that we are not supposed to view from. last night the security guard came at 11:30 and smiled at me. motioning that the hours for use have expired. its good again to be alone at times in so much space. i keep remembering my life in East Hall. having a studio so large that one could run laps if they got bored. stuck in the basement till two in the morning sometimes till six. that feeling of being isolated but having so much space and time to deal with. making puppets from ductape, clothing patterns and a million miles of string.

maybe i will hide in one of the many cabinets to avoid the security guard next time. maybe i will wait on the terrace and sing opera to the moon. or run around the building flailing my arms like a lost pigeon. or maybe i will just make a sign and tape it to the door reading "do not disturb".