Diana Thater Lights Up MCA Chicago

[23 Nov]

The Sympathetic Imagination installation show has been around for a year now. First debuted in her hometown of Los Angeles over the summer, Thater's featured works were curated as a living retrospective of the artist's work since the early '90s, and the show is certainly full of life. Diana Thater has been known since the turn of the new century as a woman who blurs the line of art object into creating spaces of mediated material.

West entrance to MCA; this was my first visit and the cashier that helped me, Taylor, was an alum of ISU from the Theater department! The show was located on the 4th floor.

Immediately the lighting changed to a soft blue and took over the entire corridor in a sculptural way. Lights across the balcony in another room were almost like banisters draped from the windows. The initial impression upon me was that colored light was going to creep in from the pieces themselves. I walked A Series of Events, 2003, 2015, 2016 first. Typically text-based pieces do not require the viewer to move, but this nondescript work led me toward the emergency exit door, away from the entrances to the show. This work was just as unassuming as its title, and seemed out of place until finding the history of its manifestations. Originally the work was a video capturing phrases on a cinema marquee that would come as a succession of 'titles' flashed onto the screen.[1] This work in particular is indicative of two interests in Thater's work: 1) It is an example of Thater's transient condition of her works: they can become visible at any time, interval, or visual medium. This is also evident in the collage of photo stills from Untitled Videowall (Butterflies), 2008. At one moment a corner of the room appeared blank, and the next–a silhouette or two would appear. It brings to mind the video series by Hito Stereyl were she makes herself invisible through the medium of film. Incidentally, Martin Creed's room installations with lights going on and off oscillate at about the same interval as Thater's projections.

2) Thater also notes it was inspired by the form of indices in books and that she attempted to adopt their logic. This process typifies another theme of Thater's work: investigating forms of culture and communication. Even though most of the video installations have content involving nature's ecosystems, most animals and sites filmed represent a political, ritual, or historical significance. We see this in A Cast of Falcons, 2000, where Thater portrays simultaneously the Egyptian god Horus as well as a creature that cannot look back at the viewer. The earth was projected at one end of the hallway, with the moon mirroring it across the other end. Projectors lined one side on podium shelves, high above the viewers eye line. Not pictured are the falcon videos shown in between the two celestial bodies. In this way the earth and moon are actually the predominant forces that can look back at us in the room in lieu of the falcon's restriction.

Projectors descended from the ceiling, and screens reside on the floor. In this way, the mediated screens made themselves self-evident, and they took positions unconventional from most video art. The curation of the show was certainly an effort with the artists to expose approaches to display. In an ART21 interview on Delphine, 1999, Thater says that she wants to create an awareness in viewers of mediation and ecosystem we interact with, rather than allowing for the audience to get lost in self-reflection.[2] This work in particular has elements of surprise: the way projections overlap onto adjacent walls gives the feeling that you were walking through Shedd Aquarium. It is not a clear case of appropriation but calls on our familiarity with Discovery channel-like films.

Installation view of The Sympathetic Imagination

In Life is a Time-Based Medium, 2015, Thater explicitly takes the installations' themes into account and radically fuses two rooms into one viewing experience. Again a specific species signals the setting and significance of filming with the rhesus macaques loose in a Hindu temple. We are allowed, at some distance (mediated between a screen, made evident by a bottom panel of viewers sitting in theater seats) to enter into the "temple of the monkey god" (notes of author). She profiles at once the intersections of human-animal-nature as well as displayed image and the tangible museum through a facade entrance created to match the projection. This work exemplifies our confrontations with rituals and practices outside of faith and include our constant unawareness of mediated image.

The moments that could be found in this show were more than what I expected. Much like the time-based and loop works of artists like Creed, Thater has created for silence a vibrant home. It is an odd feeling to leave a show and know that you have missed some of what was there; I couldn't possibly take it all in, even though many visitors appeared to be attempting just that.

GALLERY OF PHOTOS AND RELATED CONTENT:

https://vimeo.com/68262392
http://dianathater.delmonicobooks.com/film.php
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cR8hHg06ooY&t=12s

Multiple angles of A Series of Events–2003, 2015, 2016

Multiple stills from a detail of Untitled Videowall (Butterflies)–2008

View of Untitled Videowall (Butterflies)–2008

Still of projector from Delphine–1999

View of one side of A Cast of Falcons–2000

View from opposite side of A Cast of Falcons–2000

Multiple views from Life is a Time-Based Medium–2015

View from Life is a Time-Based Medium–2015

View from Life is a Time-Based Medium–2015

Still from Six-Color Video Wall–2000

Barry on World AIDS Day: Wojnarowicz and Bloomington/Normal Art History

[1 Dec]

AIDS awareness and activism is part of the day to day for Barry. Some of his closest friends and colleagues have been affected over the years, and he continues to support the voices of people of people that have passed too soon. He told me afterward that he wanted his talk to remind and educate people in this community that Bloomington-Normal has a rich history and connection to the art world at large. Members of the art collective were working extremely hard to make this an event following a long line of outspoken artists and shows held in this space that respond to and challenge contemporary issues.

Barry's hat among sound equipment following the events of the day.

With that, I make this post. Not only did the BNA Collective have its first show in a public space, but Barry Blinderman contributed some reflections in congruence with World AIDS Day, Day Without Art, and as the keynote for the pop-up show. Recent class conversations have questioned the influence and importance of institutional art, including the arts in higher education. I was not surprised to hear, upon walking in, that Barry was making this distinction with Wojnarowicz: "David never went to art school but he certainly went to museums." Barry chronicled some of his early inspirations, such as the collaborative show Pier 34 in NYC, along with a recurring motif of commodity in creation. In essence, part of Wojnarowicz's impact comes from his instinctual impulses in responding to all areas of life, particularly the intimate and personal details of his own identity.

Pictured left to right: installation shot of an ox– a common motif David used involving commodities– Untitled (Sirloin Steaks)–1983.

The ox mural was recreated at multiple shows, and gave me some crucial insight: for David, pieces did not have to involve entirely new subject matter, but rather often recycled sets of images. This approach allowed for the profusion of appropriation in his work, along with a unique language involving muses through portraiture or themes through icons. Much like Haring, Barry will comment, Wojnarowicz crafted a language of his own. Complex collages of portraiture and figuration was in fact his most powerful tools. Intensely self-referential and bordering manic, David's work is a constant barrage of sensuous experience, by each association of the word. As Barry went on, he came to a photograph of the installation Tongues of Flame that was in this room and paused briefly: "I always have thought that the boy in flames is like a self portrait of him, of a man running too fast." Barry is able to provide these glimpses of David that hold more weight than other art historians simply because he is making a comment on David's disposition, which extends beyond his work. 

Unidentified diptych painting by Wojnarowicz

In fact, Barry got to know David even more so after leaving East Village: "David lived here three years [...] he had never stayed or been to a university before." Apparently Wojnarowicz stayed in a studio apartment in downtown Bloomington. This was his first time in a college town, and as short as it may have been, David's time spent in Bloomington-Normal sounds like it was generative for his work. It is compelling and invigorating to think about such a well-known artist responding to local characteristics of this place in his art. Barry noted that, "When I put my hands on your body" originates from a trip to the Dickson mounds in Lewiston, Illinois. I must say, though, that like David Foster Wallace's perception in contemporary literature, the memory of Wojnarowicz being here must be bittersweet for those that knew him. Now a giant in the world of 80s/90s visual arts, Wojnarowicz never shied away from his identity as a gay man living with HIV. An influential proponent for ACT UP, David's work is emblematic of a man thoughtful about the nature of his outcast in society. Many of the works shown demonstrate at once the suffering and the celebration of his liminal lot in life.

Detail of Fuck You Faggot Fucker–1984 or Untitled (Map)–1990.

David was nearing the threshold of his life upon moving here around the time of the show. Barry remembers after playing a clip of narration that, "When he came and spoke here it was just like this, [he was] bellowing and sick." He was a sick man, and yet Barry noted that anytime David spoke during his life, people did not forget what he said because he had that sort of presence. And that was the most moving part of the afternoon, that this show held a presence for the lives of the people among us.

Still from a Wojnarowicz video collage

RELATED MATERIAL: 

http://galleries.illinoisstate.edu/exhibitions/1990/wojnarowicz/Press4.pdf

(full pdf scans of these articles)

Scanned article and letters in response to the show Tongues of Flame at University Galleries, 1992

One of the most controversial and talked-about pieces was Water, 1987.

Wojnarowicz's Water–1987; acrylic, ink, and collage on masonite.

Controversy stemmed from this piece also: Untitled (Genet, after Brassai)–1978-79/1990.

Dana Leyba's HERSTORY in alternative space

 [4 Nov]

Put on by the Women and Gender Studies program, Dana Leyba's show is displayed in an unexpected area, room 237–which is technically a hallway for the offices of some faculty in the Rachel Cooper building. Not only is this an interesting space to view student work, but there is very little information available to pick up, and there is of course no receptionist to help you navigate the motivation in the show's curation. With all of this in mind, Leyba's mysterious imagery has a lot of cohesive narrative.

The above image seemed an interesting excuse for using language, even literature with the library depicted behind the subject. However, upon a search of the phrase, it became clear that this is a reference to the self-portrait photography of a Claude Cahun. An avant-garde/surrealist photographer, Cahun challenged representations of gender around the turn of the 20th century. It seems evident then that this is the artist representing herself as a woman dismantling conceptions of gender identity. The location of these works suddenly gained more weight. I looked to the little postcard with information about the exhibition and found no description to either confirm or deny the introspection of the artist.

As this prior work surprised my expectations, the triptych (seen here in two images) seemed to have another subtle reference of its own. The three-dimensional leaves that framed each figure remind me of mythic, decorative representations of some goddess in a garden. All these works in the series at first look seem to beckon different moments of activity, inactivity, or expressiveness in the artist. The uncovered woman here reveals something more primal and less reserved than the prior piece. A graphic t-shirt is a form of self-identification however obscure, and nude exposure conveys either lewd behavior, ludic introspection of the body, or even a willingness to hold a liminal place–neither one nor the other. On either end of the carefully posed center figure is the subject either turning away or toward the audience. It is almost as though following a progression of events. From left to right we could form a narrative about privacy and self, but having these images side by side with just as much material as the next keeps me from doing such. It was not until viewing the initial painting (shown at the beginning of this post) that this feeling came into clearer focus.

Having all three figures in one landscape and canvas–in even closer proximity than before–gave me the notion that Leyba's self-portraits reveal a splintered personality. In the triptych it might be different iterations of time and mood, but in this work all come together and interact directly with one another. In what world outside of painting can this exist? For one thing I could assert that the women and their bodies have become symbolic or metaphorical representations, coexisting so as to question further how gender is constructed and performed. The only other conclusion I can make is that these women are related biologically and not conceptually. Their eye shadow and shirts/dresses make me wonder at their relationship. Whether or not these women are related in a social, biological or imagined sense, Leyba does well to make subtle gesture, pose and form from painting tradition permeate into her interests. The presentation might be oversimplified, but the series as a whole speaks volumes without the expected summary of works. A risky move that I would love to see taken more often.

Strange Oscillations – Splintered Poetry

[25 Oct]

Jan Bervin, The Dickinson Composite Series,

Fascicle 19–2004-08

Strange Oscillations and Vibrations of Sympathy was a refreshing literary trip. I am not much of a Virginia Woolf nor Sylvia Plath expert myself, but I am a sucker for poetry in art shows. The featured women in this show represent a wide variety of expression and media both past and present; from giant mason jars filled in a display case to flashing video segments, I was a bit dazed and confused carousing most of the opening. The direction of this show in particular reveals an intimate but common practice of all artists. We all have either our imagined muses or teachers across history in literature and the arts. These women, though, mostly engage with the material from a deeply personal perspective. They might revere or criticize what these women wrote, but for the most part I felt that they had a desire to extend their work into the language of visual culture. Their focus on disclosed expressions gives viewers a key into what is otherwise out of context. 

Stephanie Brooks, Sylvia Plath's Underlinings in
Virginia Woolf's The Waves series–2009

Stephanie Brooks' series Sylvia Plath's Underlinings in Virginia Woolf's The Waves was striking to me because of the transparency revealed in their conception. Brooks' does have a way to make their meaning more opaque, however. Underlining certainly conveys a personal importance to the reader, but these intimate moments could be ones of confusion, or unresolved places to return to in her reading. In another sense, taking these words out of their original context largely reduces their meaning; even if the intent is to seek out the source material, it comes at the cost of delayed understanding. 

Catherine Wagner, Beloved, Toni Morrison–2011

Bethany Collins, What good is science fiction to black people?–2016

Gallery 2A was very quiet and the majority of the works require close inspection, such as Wagner's pigment print and Collins' text-driven pastel. Beside the stir of excitement in taking a print from a large stack display, the room was very pensive, especially due to the monumental series by Jan Bervin. Easy on the eye and deceptively complex, these works also embed a language of their own, likening themselves to a Larry Poons color field painting. The craft in this case, though, is to another level. They were easily the most compelling works in the show for me, partially because I cannot fathom the entire process in textile-making. The scale of these works obviously took years of labor, indicated by the label.

(from my initial notes touring the galleries: quiet images, even in the video installations. A quote from one of the videos–"I think that when I write I am dead." This comes from Carrie Schneider's recordings of women reading sections from books by their favorite authors.)

still from Dawn Roe's The Sunshire Bores / The Daylights–2016

Dawn Roe's installation video and recording greets viewers as they enter University Galleries, and also transitions the space nicely when traversing across rooms. A sing-song voice intones these two phrases over and over again, droning on as the video cuts scenes in a matter of seconds. This video signals our auditory sense in a different way from the previous room and in a way prepares an awareness of our other senses. 

I was especially intrigued by the women represented that were authoresses and activists from parts of Latin America. This portion of the show was much more vibrant than others even though there was a temptation to exoticize what was unfamiliar. Simmons' installation was not only an overwhelming stimulant for me, but it created a sort of semi-translucence, such as a panel screen, for the rest of the room. I think that gallery 1A was tastefully sectioned for the video installations that shared a wall. The orientation of these few pieces really kept the space open for some of the more traditional-sized hung paintings and prints. 

The section of the show in 1A 

partial view of Xaviera Simmons Blue–2016

Sabina Ott, more naughty in a spectacle–2015

One of the better walls of the show featured a painting from 1979 next to prints made this year. Both sets depicted women reading, relating the literature of the show as a timeless endeavor. The two prints in fact correlated with the video installation around the corner and was part of a larger series to document women reading their favorite portions of books. The surreal features the poet Mistral reading one of her poems, which was then reprinted onto the placard itself. This was an important point in bringing clarity through curatorial decisions about the works. This image and its information is emblematic for me of the process involved in experiencing the signaling of the show.

Placard for one temporary wall in gallery 1A

Cecilia Vicuña, Gabriel Mistral (desnuda con pitahayas y
mangos / with cactus-fruit and mangoes)–1979 and
Carrie Schneider's chromogenic prints made in 2016

Fascinating interviews, but I am not sure I understood what this project was really getting at. The intricacy of the artist's motivation made for a dense yet emotionally-charged documentary. I ended up being most intrigued by visuals like this one that seemed out of place.

Still from Lisa Tan's HD video from 2013 entitled Sunsets

Tallman on Contemporary Understandings of Print

[20 Sept]

Susan Tallman at Universty Galleries – Editor in chief of Art in Print Magazine.

In Tallman's introduction to the publication Art in Print over five years ago, she stated that "historians and curators increasingly look at art objects more as very interesting nodes in a network of cultural exchanges."[1] This was a generative realization for me that print should be acknowledged readily in the contemporary arts. Ms. Tallman has experienced, however, that the mode of its viewing today often contradicts such a presupposition. 

In her juror's statement for this show, Beyond the Norm, Tallman expresses an interest in the "powerful interdependence of material object and immaterial idea." This fundamental rhetoric destabilizes in a fresh way the pureness of the photograph and any of its associated media. She goes on to conclude further that "printing comes with implied claims to objective knowledge: for more than half a millennium it has been the physical substance of learning." Her curation, therefore, is concerned with an interest in the didactic, dialogic, and pedagogic nature of print.

Christiane Baumgartner, Manhattan Transfer–2010, woodcut on kozo paper

Tallman argues largely that print has foundational qualities but is much more expansive than what we normally consider apparent; the term has come to be dismissed and reinstated in the contemporary conversations of viable representation. Her intent was to bring a basic understanding of these attributes to the fore. 

Early on in the lecture, Tallman complicated even the early and notable users of print technology by revealing that, "For Degas, etchings were a reference point to come back to." Edgar Degas' use of Mary Cassatt's image as muse was further enhanced by the accessibility of reproduction. 

Edgar Degas, Mary Cassatt at the Louvre: The Etruscan Gallery, 

1879–1880, softground etching, drypoint, aquatint, and etching

retouched with red chalk, The Art Institute of Chicago, Albert Roullier

Memorial Collection. Photography © The Art Institute of Chicago

She went on to question Richter's envisioning of image in his strip 'paintings'; these were digital renderings of previous works' colors layered one of top of another. While this makes for a compelling discussion of reuse in art, Richter still holds fast to his inclination to a painterly aura: "In painting, we rearrange ourselves, as the art wraps around us and is static in this sense." Tallman points out here that viewers of prints are allowed much more flexibility in seeing. We are free to move and arrange the pieces in front of us, such as a library with catalogues of prints.

As to be expected, then, "Richter's work are the most painterly paintings." In this instance, Richter has a goal in mind of operating both within a print dynamic through copying painted matter; however, in its function as a piece mounted to the wall, this series is experienced very much as a painting and not as a print.

Gerhad Richter, Installation view “Gerhard Richter, “ Marian Goodman Gallery,
London, 2014. Courtesy of the artist and Marian Goodman Gallery

Edgar Degas, Mary Cassatt at the Louvre: The Paintings Gallery, 1885, pastel over softground etching, drypoint, aquatint, and etching, The Art Institute of Chicago, Bequest of Kate L. Brewster. Photography © The Art Institute of Chicago

Mehretu and Guyton were both used as examples of syntax and connection, two of the most impactful conversations brought to light. As for Mehretu's large, highly detailed aquatint, the way that she extends skilled labor with the evocation of line is nothing short of exemplary. Tallman posits that print "engages us in the illusion of line and dots." Meilan's Veil of Veronica also prompts this discussion to a relation with drawing, although the mechanized process of transferring images is very much unique. The inherency of a 'series' further develops our understanding of art as process or trials, and challenges our ideal of a single masterwork. The example of Guyton finally brings out the irony of commercial art sales that largely adheres to the marketing strategy of masterwork. When this clashes with the world of printmaking, however, Wade Guyton was able to point to the powers of social media sharing and mass reproduction that is so crucially ubiquitous today. If the art 'industry' and contemporary scenes are to embrace the craft steeped in history and tradition of learning and depicting, Tallman asserts that we must abandon painterly rhetoric and recognize the current parallel worlds of digital and print.

Julie Mehretu's Auguries 2010, 12-panel aquatint with spit bite (from 48 plates) 

Wade Guyton Untitled (Fire, Red/Black U), 2005–reprinted by artist

Concept/Focus-The Luminary St. Louis

[10 Sept]

View of exhibition's layout in the main corridor; a wide range of sculpture,
interactive environments, and paintings–sometimes all at once.

The Luminary's Concept/Focus triennial exhibition represented a variety of works from St. Louis artists and partnered with the Oklahoma Visual Arts Coalition to showcase four artists from the Sooner State.[1] The show encompassed many pieces that were explicitly designed to be interactive. If you like art about IPads, domesticity, headphones, and citizenship, this is definitely the place to be. Foster's sculptures pictured here even depict some larger than life common objects in a crooked way. Altogether the show seems to present more thoughts about communing than it does viewing. Materiality is another significant force, combining common objects of both technology and nature. Many artists did employ the use of popular paint media, or in some cases, the allure of such materials. Passing by Ouyang's female sarcophagus figure Ophelia reminded me of the sense that "larger than life" works speak very directly to the soul; as Newman said, "It is human scale that counts."[2] Now, the content in question here may differ greatly from Newman's zip paintings, but on the whole the show seems to denote such an interest. 

Ouyang's kittytuna (Ophelia) – the location of this piece was moved by
curator after printing of the program to the front of the gallery

Catalina Ouyang's kittytuna (Ophelia) – 2016, Extruded Polystrene,
Fiberglass, Aqua Resin, Gypsum, Resin, MDF, Spray Paint, Acrylic Paint

Glenn Herbert Davis' broods – 2016, mixed media

The titling of the show certainly leaves much to the viewer to interpret an overriding question, and even the program itself has no detailed curator's statement. Davis's broods is one of a few outliers on display, reinforcing the sheer variety and apparent ambiguity of choice. A meticulous construction for some type of large bird house sat atop wheels in the main window toward the sidewalk. Even the description of the piece does not provide a list of materials. Both the interior and exterior of the work invites viewers to stick their head inside or view into, even through its openings. Whatever the purpose of this illustration's relation to nature, wood, and animals, Dzegede's installation on the adjacent wall strangely complements its form. 

A view of one interior from Davis' broods

Addoley Dzegede's Everybody You Know is Here – 2016, mixed media

View of same interior hanging, Davis' broods

*note in program: Please touch and look through the books,
but not the other items. Please use the headphones for the video.

Everybody You Know is Here presents a dynamic view of home life, and gives us the feeling that we are sifting through someone's personal belongings. The experience is quite intimate, although the content on the IPad has somehow been removed. Some failures of interactive pieces normally create unexpected questions, and in this case I simply turned to what other inanimate objects I was allowed to touch.

Side view of Foster's Neither Here Nor There – 
2016, Digital Prints mounted on Lumber

Detail of Foster's Neither Here Nor There

Partial view of exhibition's layout in the main corridor.

Foster's digital prints and Ouyang's paintings were a practice in illusory images from distance. Particular angles in relation to the pieces or the lighting gave each series a unique intimacy unlike the perceived intimacy through commercial devices. Each of these artists also represented a breadth of work through their sculptures. While Ouyang seems to have an inclination for enlarging and distorting recognizable things, Foster on the other hand neutralizes material into gradations of color and patterns distinguishable only from far away. Both of her pieces depict a landscape, either through a mimicked topographic model or by pixelated photograph. Drift seems to allude opaquely to some political or social issue by evoking the "remains from prairie burns," a common sight in Midwest agriculture. What remains to be determined, though, is the artists' intent to create a representational field or a conceptual one; is this a pile of sifted material or a miniature terrain? 

Detail of Catalina Ouyang's Character Exercises–2016, Acrylic

Paint, Cotton Duck Canvas, Enamel Paint, Resin

Catalina Ouyang's Blue Boys–2015-2016, Extruded Polystyrene, Gypsum,
Resin, Plaster, Steel, Enamel Paint, Spray Paint, Pastel

Meredith Foster's Drift (MO/OK)–2016, Sifted Ash and Charcoal (made from
invasive woody plant material and the remains from prairie burns), Flour

The show's sole "performance" piece was, in fact, the only apparent political commentary to be found. What's more, the performing was to be carried out by the willing viewer; instead of performance this may have been more accurately labeled a participation, census, or survey piece. I think that the simple choice of words has much to say for this continued work by Nguyen; performance matters greatly when a person comes to take a citizenship test. In this setting it is assumed that viewers have never seen an official version of the exam before, and so the progression in the series seeks to inform each person with a method for achieving citizen status. Whether or not it is satirical or strictly factual as a social experiment remains to be seen. The setup acknowledges the physicality of taking such significant tests but also includes a way to make it your own by emailing the artist. Viewing the pass-fail ID cards is enjoyable and yet provokes us to think about the rhetoric of our country's immigration policies; is this a wall of shame, fame or something else?

Anh-Thuy Nguyen's Citinzenship–2016, Installation and Performance

Anh-Thuy Nguyen's Citinzenship–2016,
Dye-Sublimation Print and Plastic

Anh-Thuy Nguyen's Civics Questions–2016,
Screen Print (set of 5, edition of 4)

The final series of outliers on the day was Lu's neon 'signs.' While it may have been a signal for our long walk back down Cherokee Street, Lu brought Odds and Ends an interesting fixture for fluorescent light installations. Once again we experience a piece that thwarts commercial use of materials, and depicts an intimacy through cartoon illustration, casualness through its relation to the ground. Although not inviting you to grab the work itself, its revealed power source makes one feel as if it could be contained in our home as well, that it is meant to reside in something beside a gallery. In fact, much of the show is an invitation to step into an environment and disenchants the viewer's expectation.

Cole Lu's Odds and Ends–2016, Three Pieces of Neon Tubing
with Metal Suspension Frame

Gabbie did not seem to enjoy the other show on view. In the far right
backgrounded is Cole Lu's Thinking the word "somewhere" meditatively
as both placeholder and ends (self-portrait)– 2016, Digital printed fabric,
c-print in light box, "wooden" ionic column, marble Lazy Susan, fortune
cookies, bamboo chair.

Next day's breakfast at Blueprint Coffee in Delmar Loop.