heather sincavage

march 2


Words. Words. Words.  I really enjoy words.  In fact, I am quite particular in my use of words when it comes to titling.  Same goes for punctuation.  I can probably attribute this to my early love for e.e. cummings.  Not only was his work visual but the spacing of the words on the page pushed us as to how to read them.  Pacing.  Pauses.  I just love that the reader was forced to an experience of words.   One could not be passive.  Sometimes, it even took a few readings to really get the flow of the piece.  All in all, this was an early influence as to the importance of words.

For Example:

The Sky Was

can    dy    lu
        pinks shy
greens    coo    1 choc

  un    der,
  a    lo
      tive        s  pout

It has been one week since my surgery and recovery seems to be going well.  There are ups and downs but marked improvements every day.  I panicked the other day to be home all this time and not use my time more productively.  I guess that's rather silly because productive use of time at home really is resting, sleeping and healing but I'm not one to sit idle often and get anxious if I think I'm wasting precious time.  This would apply to my job which I can easily shoulder weights of feeling responsible for but also the show I am working on for later this year.

I had tentatively named the show a measure.  I've been referring to it as that for the past year almost year since I booked the show.  Soon, I'll really need to commit to that which has brought me to think more concretely about the title.  

When I have really thought about the works coming together, where once I thought I would use my body as a measure for my human-ness, I now considered that many- if not all- of the works were about these aspects of longing.  The anticipation, the expectations, the insecurity, the joy, the comfort, the disappointment, the devastation, the alienation.  I decided to commit to this to tighten up the direction.  It's a small space after all.  I started to favor on longing: a measure or a measure of longing.  Yikes.  They aren't great titles.

Often when I don't like something, I try to simplify.  I began to favor on longing, which really was the name of a show that I submitted to a few years ago that never materialized into anything.  I have always loved that title but felt a bit guilty to steal the words.  When I googled whether the show just ended up elsewhere, I came across a book of the same name.  Oh man.  I remember seeing this book in my subconscious somewhere but totally forgot it existed until this google search.  The reason why I remember is because of the Ann Hamilton piece on the cover.  Who could forget that?  One never forgets Ann Hamilton.

So now I've bought the book and now I am falling in love with new words.  Appurtenances.  What a word.  I'm not sure I've even heard someone speak it before.  When I look it up on webster's dictionary, the definition is hardly as interesting as Susan Stewart's passage about it.

I am particularly interested here in the capacity of narrative to generate significant objects and hence to both generate and engender a significant other. Simultaneously, I focus upon the place of that other in the formation of a notion of the interior. Here we might remember the meaning of appurtenance as appendage, the part that is a whole, the addition to the body which forms an attachment, transforming the very boundary, or outline, of the self.
— Susan Stewart, On Longing (pg. xi)

Man.  That's just the preface.  
(I almost feel foolish that I'm only discovering this book with any seriousness now)

But it draws me no closer to my show title.  At this point, it mostly requires maybe more reading and lots of word mapping- all of which are able to be done bedside as I rest and recover.  If emails are any indicator, it seems there is no shortage of work waiting for me when I return to my job.