Fake Traced Stencils

I'm sitting here in front of my computer, smoking a cigarette and toying with the notion of opening a bottle of wine.   I am also leafing through a book that I picked up in Bilbao at the Guggenheim, called "Walkscpaes, Walking as an asthetic practice".  As I am looking through it I am realizing that this was a complete vanity buy.   It has sat on my shelf for more than a couple of years completely unread.  I think that I was consumed by the gravity of being inside that building and having to choose a book that at once made me feel intellectual and enlightened.  A book that would gain the nodding approval of the saleswoman behind her illustrious counter. As if by choosing a book so esoteric and utterly bizarre I would somehow be saying something profound and cool about myself.  I would be saying that I understood, I belonged.  I belonged in the same class as Anselm Kiefer, Willem de Kooning, Robert Motherwell, and Richard Serra, whoose works I had just seen.   Maybe not as an artist but as someone who understood and appreciated the things they did.  What a fucking asshole.  Anyways, I did read the first chapter tonight  and it describes walking as a type of  landscape architecture.   By traversing a cities streets and alleys you apparently can intervene temporarily in it's form.  It starts with the history of nomadic wandering moves on to something called Transurbance, created by a crazy group of student architects called Stalker, and ends with my favorite: The Anti-Walk.  The Anti-Walk was a form of anti-art.  In 1921 Dada organized a series of "excursions" to the most banal spots in Paris.  He wanted to reject the cities "assigned places" or places considered of interest.  He wanted to reclaim urban space, especially ones that were considered lost or unworthy of enjoying.  Shit, I might have to credit him with the idea of  We Hate Tourism Tours.  Anyways, after all this I wished desperately that you were here and we could do some "art walking" together.  Since we are constricted by geography I thought maybe at least you could enjoy some pictures I took on my walk last Sunday, and with the right kind of eyes and imagination we could be on that walk together.   If you were a piece of pie I would snort you like cocaine.