zenith
more audacity, please.
Every last thing on its own timeline.
There is nothing to figure out.
I take small actions in the meantime.
maybe everything sorts itself out when I am busy living.
journal entry 4/1/25
On Saturday, I went to the 10th anniversary of the Weaving Mill here in Chicago. The founder, Emily Winter, explained its origins - how she initially got a degree in history and then fell in love with weaving and went back to get a Masters in textiles. At some point, she volunteered at a community center that just happened to house the industrial remnants of a closed textile manufacturer.
At the time, the looms were still used for small scale production and job training. However, near the end of her grad program, Emily got a call saying the weaving operations were ceasing entirely. She jumped at the opportunity to take over the industrial looms, pitched an artist-run studio concept to the center, and TWM was born.
In hindsight, it’s easy to draw up the web of connections, easy to disregard the full weight of serendipity. In hindsight, it all makes perfect sense. But in the moment, this is rarely (if ever?) the case. most everything is dark & murky. reminds me of that Emily Dickinson line: I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.
These unfoldings do not live in our best attempt at goals. no vision board will suffice.
On Friday, I went to the Abakanowicz Research Center and spent hours handling old photos of the infamous Chicago stockyards. (This is a small piece of the larger zine exploration.)
In one of the many folders, I stumbled onto images of the photographer George R. Lawrence. In 1901, he was commissioned to take the “first balloon picture ever attempted” of the yards.
George & his camera in the cage
On the back of one of these photos, it says that during the attempt, the basket separated from the balloon and George fell 200 feet. He landed on telephone & telegraph wires, saving his life.
He also built the world’s largest camera - it took 15 men to carry - to photograph a brand new train. The photo was displayed at the 1900 Paris Exhibition & largely believed to be a fake, at first. The NY French Consul apparently went to Chicago in order to verify the existence of the camera and its 8’ x 4.5’ glass plate. After providing enough evidence to prove the photograph was real, George was awarded the “Grand Prize of the World for Photographic Excellence”.
He owned a photography business & studio in Chicago with the slogan “The Hitherto Impossible in Photography Is Our Specialty”.
The audacity.
I am thinking about what we deem impossible. This culture thrives on my disillusionment. It will never argue for more wonder or awe. This culture is a flat earther, seeing through dead eyes, believing in a dead future. missing the magic. missing the serendipity. missing the elegance of an unfolding too intelligent for our brilliant bird brains.
I refuse to be guided by cynicism. Give me more balloons named Zenith, more audacity, more “first ever attempts”, more belief in the unknown. in not knowing.