No.156

June, a list:

1. Everyone talks about how slow plants are to grow and adapt compared to people; I’m not sure that’s always true, the Pseudopanax lessonii ‘Cyril Watson’ in the living room has, I feel, more to show for the last two weeks than I do

2. You purchased two waterproof Ordnance Survey maps from a bookstore the size of a generous garden shed

3. On warm days the bees still run repeatedly into the windows at the front of the house and this makes me feel unqualified

4. Dissatisfaction and longing

5. Longing and lost hair ties

6. I saw a small brown and white dog walk absentmindedly through the back yard before continuing up the hill alone

7. Speaking of the back yard, the frustrating gravel is now covered in various large wild-looking pieces of greenery that have not been encouraged in any way other than simply being left alone—what is a weed anyway and shouldn’t we be cultiavting more forests of inattentiveness and neglect

8. We seem to have forgotten how to eat cucumbers because they routinely get discovered in the fridge having gone bad

9. A foolproof way to make a room seem larger is to fill it with large objects or pieces of furniture for a few weeks and then take it all out again

10. I know that opening the windows will let a sea of small bugs inside but I have to open them regardless

11. I would like to know how looking into another person’s eyes can differ over the course of a relationship, over half a lifetime, and what can be changed by it changing

WORK-RELATED NEWS:

I have seen the final proofs for the Italian version of We Will Be Close Again, and it will be lovely—its title in Italian is going to be Di nuovo vicini. For the upcoming German and Italian editions of this small volume I hand-lettered the translations, something which would usually be very charming but this time around felt quite hurtling given that other book deadlines (other projects generally) need so much thought and time and attention.

My relationship to work at the moment is more strained than in previous months and years, something that it not entirely unexpected given upheavals of body and emotion. Even so, I am glad to call it work, and I am glad that you are here. If it would be helpful perhaps I could use more of this ‘work-related’ section to discuss not just this-is-being-done, this-has-been-finished, but also what happens in the space between me and the work. (Unambiguous, as ever.)

THIS WEEK I FELL IN LOVE WITH:

Recent paintings by Lucy Roleff, whose work some of you may remember from newsletters No.148 and No.136. What does it mean to return to a person’s paintings in this way? Affinity, absence, fullness, certainty? I don’t rightly know.

‘She traps things in her web; she embroiders her tiny corner of the universe.’

— Rachel Cusk, Louise Bourgeois, Coventry: Essays

The end.