by joshua heineman                        ( about cb )

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email joshua:
J[at]CURSIVEBUILDINGS.COM

PROJECTS

Reaching for the Out of Reach

Blog Art (looks)

Blog Words (reads)

Reclaiming the World through Photography

Fever Math

Ahhhhhmegazine
no. 5, no. 4, no. 3,
no. 2, no. 1 (art mags)

Overheard in SF

You Do Not Need to be Emperor

Polaroids/Photos

The Last Works
of Egon Schiele


    SONGS ( more )
 

 
- summertime
- so don't you worry
- chance is our machine
- out tonite
- icstaww
- sun's not rising yet


c u r s i v e
b u i l d i n g s
f o r e v e r


miracles


portraits in red


flickr as a game you cannot win


angelic melancholic


reclaiming


ta beauté
me secoue


context is
excess


camera death


[ archives ]


Unpublished draft from my last year in San Francisco:

The night settles, clear as glass & cold from the Alaska current running down the coast. I go out to buy vegetables for dinner. There is a fine little market & deli down the street that sells produce of high quality at high prices. I point myself there, considering the expense a reasonable tax on ease, pace of life & the south, west & north views of the city. I don’t leave the hilltop this way & the walk is pleasant & life seems otherworldly for a few moments. The stars sit above, like wayward city lights but entire worlds more… the high light is Jupiter. The low point is Venus. The window lights are pollution.

Unpublished draft from my last year in San Francisco:

The night settles, clear as glass & cold from the Alaska current running down the coast. I go out to buy vegetables for dinner. There is a fine little market & deli down the street that sells produce of high quality at high prices. I point myself there, considering the expense a reasonable tax on ease, pace of life & the south, west & north views of the city. I don’t leave the hilltop this way & the walk is pleasant & life seems otherworldly for a few moments. The stars sit above, like wayward city lights but entire worlds more… the high light is Jupiter. The low point is Venus. The window lights are pollution.

A line often & erroneously attributed to CamusShould I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?” becomes a dicey proposition after six in the evening.

Eagle from the balcony, Christmas Eve 2013.

Eagle from the balcony, Christmas Eve 2013.

Chez Dekum.

Chez Dekum.

In Which I Stumble Upon A Reference To My Own Writing In THIS RECORDING (& feel new)

Astonishingly. ”So, I read poetry. The aforementioned poem is a favorite, as is anything from “The Gift” by Hafiz (don’t surrender your loneliness so quick/let it cut deeper). There is “Letters from Saint Francis” by Joshua Heineman: In love like long rambling walks with no destination – Teach me that language. Run out my weakness on the roads of history stretched out to infinity & still arriving… I will devour anything that says what I seemingly cannot, at least not yet.”

via image

Astoria.

Astoria.

Once More In The City Of Roses

I want to be a tall building, not a man in the street…
to be built for a purpose by a powerful being.

Working among furniture designed by Eames (long ago) in the late sun of a dying summer, twenty thirteen.

Working among furniture designed by Eames (long ago) in the late sun of a dying summer, twenty thirteen.

MARCUS AURELIUS, c. 175 AD

Human life.

Duration: momentary. Nature: changeable. Perception: dim. Condition of Body: decaying. Soul: spinning around. Fortune: unpredictable. Lasting Fame: uncertain. Sum Up: The body and its parts are a river, the soul a dream and mist, life is warfare and a journey far from home, lasting reputation is oblivion.

( written in traditional [!!] Greek by a Roman emperor )

Suite dreams.

Suite dreams.

Love is a many-layered thing. This is somewhere near the center. The Little King Sebastian, his mother & I in Huntington Park just before we left San Francisco.
( photo by our very talented friend Meg Messina )

Love is a many-layered thing. This is somewhere near the center. The Little King Sebastian, his mother & I in Huntington Park just before we left San Francisco.

photo by our very talented friend Meg Messina )



“After the Lunar Module had landed … and as we breathlessly awaited the first steps on the moon, I was casting about for some novel way to record that moment. … I walked across the road and positioned that sign with its greeting so that the moon was peeking over its top right corner then took this image on a humble Brownie box camera.” - B.Weaver II


For a long, long time, I’ve searched the web over for this photograph or something like it. I absolutely knew the shot existed, but I did not know where or in what form. So base & so simple an impulse, thousands of people must have taken parallel pictures on July 20, 1969 (exactly 44 years ago tonight). Not only of the moon, but the moon in the ghostly-thin margin that men were upon it. Not just then, but the very first moments that we were upon it… like finding the mud prints of the very first fish to slither out of the sea. Not from the moon, but from the earth. Not from the fish, but from the sea. Here it is.
PS. Tonight, go walk beneath the moon & let your eyes adjust to the low light, head down, watching your feet press one-by-one on the earth. Then look up & - wham - instantly realize just how far away & far out it is that we actually stood on that rocky outpost.

After the Lunar Module had landed … and as we breathlessly awaited the first steps on the moon, I was casting about for some novel way to record that moment. … I walked across the road and positioned that sign with its greeting so that the moon was peeking over its top right corner then took this image on a humble Brownie box camera.” - B.Weaver II

For a long, long time, I’ve searched the web over for this photograph or something like it. I absolutely knew the shot existed, but I did not know where or in what form. So base & so simple an impulse, thousands of people must have taken parallel pictures on July 20, 1969 (exactly 44 years ago tonight). Not only of the moon, but the moon in the ghostly-thin margin that men were upon it. Not just then, but the very first moments that we were upon it… like finding the mud prints of the very first fish to slither out of the sea. Not from the moon, but from the earth. Not from the fish, but from the sea. Here it is.

PS. Tonight, go walk beneath the moon & let your eyes adjust to the low light, head down, watching your feet press one-by-one on the earth. Then look up & - wham - instantly realize just how far away & far out it is that we actually stood on that rocky outpost.

Rare summer rains, San Francisco. Soot on the panes, San Francisco. Years of the same, San Francisco. Seven down a drain, San Francisco.

Rare summer rains, San Francisco. Soot on the panes, San Francisco. Years of the same, San Francisco. Seven down a drain, San Francisco.

SCENE: Trader Joe's in San Francisco, Checkout Line, 8:14 pm

  • Manager (displeased): ... I keep telling him.
  • Checkout Woman (annoyed): Who, Lloyd?
  • Manager: No, Lloyd was there. That checkout. He'd listen. I don't have these kinds of problems w/him.
  • Checkout Woman (laughing, still annoyed): You got it backward. Again.
  • Manager: I don't think so.
  • Checkout Woman: Yeah, you do. Lloyd was on that line tonight.
  • Manager: This checkout?
  • Checkout Woman: It was Frank over there. Frank is his own man.
  • Manager (pointing): No, no. It goes you, Lloyd, Frank. Right?
  • Checkout Woman (pointing): Frank, Lloyd.
  • Me: Frank Lloyd Wright!
  • Manager: ...
  • Checkout Woman: ...
  • Me: Can I pay for this stuff?

I need things. I’ve got things. Why do I still want things?