By the second week in the artist residency, my only real accomplishment is the purchase of a crappy pair of sneakers... The only art I've made aside from a few sketches, is a piddly little gauche painting. My days are filled w/stumbling through the city, Spanish class in Palermo, and getting lost- usually in Palermo after class.

The residency, LPEP, has specific programs dealing with technology, recycling, and politics. Frank hopes I make art in response to the city and themes of the programs. The only thoughts in my head are the effects of physical space on a person. In Patagonia every turn opened up new space. In Buenos Aires, every turn offered a wall, another tight turn on an eroding sidewalk, a maze...Borge's labyrinth. When I sit down to my work space, I have only tiny pads of paper, tiny for the sake of travel. My ideas are enormous. This little gauche is not cutting it. I don't know politics. I have no background in technology. I have never been interested in making recycle-collage**On this note, the most astounding and moving artwork I have seen is Xu Ping's "Phoenixes" at Mass MOCA** -Here is more about that: http://kerrimcgill.blogspot.com.ar/2013/02/creative-process-let-concept-simmer.html

Frank inquires about my "project". I can only tell him: "When I define my ideas, I will make a plan and work very quickly." I am overwhelmed with thought, but I trust the process. Frank on the other hand is unsure. This is perfect. I tend to excel where there is doubt.

In conversation, two words are added to my Spanish, "latente" - a deep underlying thought, and "inquietud"- a racing mind. The racing mind prevents a deep thought from surfacing. The artist observes, sees connections and reconnects things with a new context. Too much information/ too many ideas muddle any work of art.

This is when to trust the gut feeling without judgment. Who and what stands out and stays w/me. The architecture is amazing, yet I am forever watching cracks in the sidewalk. The artisan fairs bustle with vitality.. But why is it I can't get the "cartones"(garbage pickers) out of my head? There are so many museums here..Why am I in the cemetery following the cleaning crew around? All of the books tell me to find tango, and here I am on the edge of a protest led by masked men with sticks. If I want to make sincere work about a place I know very little about, I must respect those things that stand out.

The second wknd the house is empty. I wake up early and go for a run around the cemetary, to clear my head. I cut through good old Warnes Ave, the auto body street. I know whatever it is I do it will be big. What materials can I get my hands on? With a life of cars in need, I love auto parts. I peak in every shop fron as I jog through Warnes. I see the hoods of cars wrapped in large cardboard. Ah. Yes. Cheap, big cardboard. I will go home, script a simple conversation in Spanish and return. Whe I return home, I see someone on the street has just put large boxes by the trash. Perfect! I grab them beforE the next inevitable rain shower.

The next day I wake up very early to get to the Recolletta cemetary. The light changes so quickly you won't get any good photographs after 9:00. The sun is too bright. The Moslems are impressive. There is a serious maintenance crew. Strange. Some moseliums are cared for down to a good dusting with a feather duster, and others, become maintenance storage shed... With buckets of paint stacked next to the coffins!

Still contemplating Borges, I have the address of a spot bearing his name. This search leads me to ave Florida, The spot to shop and get mugged. Annoyed but on task, I trot through a Miriam of stores, tourists and shouts of "Cambio!" These are the black market guys. The financial climate is bizarre here. American dollars are gold- and I've got none- the normal rate is the black market rate, the government makes the black market guys look like the heroes. Strange.

I wonder if the word cambio has the same double meaning as the English word change. I will ask next Spanish class. It would be fun to record them.