É. Urcades

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June 22 – July 14

June 22

I’ve finished a short run around the periphery of downtown Brooklyn.

When I purchased these shoes I imagined they would blend in so beautifully, turn a part of me into the concrete sidewalk itself, somehow enhance my capabilities in an elementalist manner — There is also an oracle nature to the act of running in a city with many stop lights, praying you’ll get a green so the flow can continue. Eventually I came to realized that when I ran, I essentially prayed.

I am grabbing a coffee after the run and see students orbiting a door draped in graduation cloaks, I’m instantly taken back to a moment when I was attending school, reading the Wikipedia entry for Academic Dress.

The young men wore navy and the young women wore gold, I wondered about the symbolism of this.

There are two bronze blades of fire held aloft by a thorny helix in front of the court house on Tillary Street, I wondered about the symbolism of this too.

Last night I told my mother straight up that I was too young to appreciate my home town, the memories she had gifted me and my sister, the hard work she’d put in for me. I told her I appreciated it. I hope my expression of this was as meaningful for her as it was for me. Even as I write this, after running, in a debased form through my phone, I could feel tears welling up, but that moment has passed as I’ve written this.

June 30


A mirror photograph I took of myself wearing clogs. In the photo, you can see only my clogs and my legs from the ankle down.

July 3

That faint residue of intent that graces all things people have produced - it’s a recently settled film of dust in a recently cleaned home.

There are so many buildings with scaffolding around here

I am walking to a poké place, grabbing an early dinner for Jenny and I, I encounter a handful of characters wearing muted clothing along the way.

A photograph of a newspaper stand and lottery LED sign somewhere in downtown Brooklyn.

A woman holding a single leaf is scanning the street with her phone

July 14

I’m walking back home from a run out and feeling that writing is letting thoughts settle as particulate settles in water and builds up and up and up…

A photograph of a street corner in downtown Brooklyn.

On reflection, it’s the complete opposite of work I’m most involved in presently, which amounts to taking a whole and reducing it. In my mind’s eye I can visualize the end result, but while writing, one of the more terrifying elements of the process is that I can’t foresee how thoughts accumulate, or where the river will be diverted so to speak.

A photograph of a sidewalk grate somewhere in downtown Brooklyn.

Ten or so years ago I had an idea for a project that amounted to taking precise scans/measurements of the utilities/access grating that decorates New York’s streets and weaving rugs with these objects precise qualities. I found it amusing to decorate a home with objects like this. I’m wondering where I can find a loom


Title: June 22 – July 14

Description: Excerpts

Published: Tue Jul 19 2022 00:00:00 GMT+0000 (Coordinated Universal Time)


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