City maps and hand claps
Good morning,
When our oldest son was a toddler we listened to a lot of Wilco with him. (Yes, now you know that I am a 40-something white dude with kids, in case it wasn’t clear.)
One of our favorite activities back then was to put a drum in the middle of the living room, hand him the drumsticks, and turn on the music. His favorite Wilco songs to play were “Heavy Metal Drummer” and “Theologians.” But my favorite to watch him play was “Kingpin.” The song's steady and heavy beat was perfect for a toddler. He would raise the sticks high above his head, close his eyes, and hit that drum as hard as he could through the first verse and belt out the lyrics, “I wanna be your kingpin, livin’ in Peking.” But when it got to the second verse and he sang the line, “Dimetapp and Spinal Tap, city maps and handclaps,” he would set the drumsticks down on top of the drum and start clapping his hands wildly, the way only a toddler can.
Of all of the things on my mind this week, of all of the ideas, thoughts, and memories that pass through my mind in any given moment, why is this the one that I am landing on? Or perhaps it’s more accurate to ask why is this the memory that has landed on me, appearing from nowhere and now perched on my shoulder? Of all unexpected visitors, why this one?
Maybe it’s simply because the memory makes me happy — not only that it once happened, but that it still happens every time I hear this song and remember the scene, how I can conjure the film of it in my mind, the film of that particular child in that particular living room in our house on Holmes, in that particular season of life that had its own scents and shades of light that I am somehow still able to contain. Most days I can’t remember where I placed my wallet, and I can’t remember my passwords. But my mind holds space for the scents, sights, and sounds of my own experiences. I don’t understand how each of us retains certain things and not others, but if this is the arrangement for what I get to keep and what I might lose along the way, I think I’m alright with that. If this is the guest that wanted to pay me a visit today, then welcome, come on in.
Anyway, I’ve got a few things coming up that seem worthy of pausing from the steady, heavy beats of life, setting the drumsticks down, and wildly clapping about it all so that you know what’s going on for me. Check it out below. And if you see my wallet, please let me know.
BAD POETRY
If you’re in KC and free next weekend, I’ll be participating in Bad Poetry at Arts on Broadway. My friend and neighbor Emily Farris invited me to read the worst poems I wrote during college. I told her I would only do it if I could read the worst poems from high school, specifically the poems I wrote for a girlfriend from Branson, Missouri. Here’s a teaser for what to expect: The girlfriend’s name was Angel.
Don’t miss it!
IN THE PRESENCE OF AN ABSENCE
I’m very excited to share this sneak peek of my upcoming multimedia installation, In the Presence of an Absence, which opens at Vulpes Bastille’s sub-gallery on May 2nd. I’ve been slowly working on this project for over a year, and I’m really grateful to Vulpes Bastille for giving me this chance to share it. I’ll tell you more about this in the coming weeks.
Peace, city maps, and hand claps,
Andrew