i always used to make myself create something new after the stroke of midnight on new years. it felt like a good way to start the year. a good way to assure the continuance of practice. i did this through the latter part of the nineties and throughout the early oughts and the earlier part of the twenty-teens. i suppose i have turned this practice more into thinking rather than making. thinking, reading, writing, being, connecting — all seem more important these days than simply making. but how does that really form into any sort of tangible practice? or does it even have to be tangible? i am still in the early phases of thinking about my practice anew. i have many questions and not so many answers.

after finishing my last project for 2019 i am feeling good about the progress, but also maybe a bit tense about next phases. i often look back to projects and create them anew. this has worked in the past, but again, there is urgency here. there has been talk on the signal-machine between the two of us to re-imagine citizen. i am interested in what this may mean. what it may become.

in the meantime, i will continue to seek answers in the studio. more likely, only more questions will abound — presenting themselves with glee and fear. anxiety and pleasure. ahh… the conundrums of 2020 present themselves. i have always said continuance is a measure of success. so i continue.

john ros, walk home from studio 001, 01 january 2020
john ros, walk home from studio 002, 01 january 2020

… and i awoke again, as tends to be the trend lately. round pain pushing through spaces that most likely shouldn’t be pushed. but we do — because we can. or is it, “we should”? or is it hubris? privilege?
landlocked in this space with tributaries and their journeys — telling stories — finding ways to tell secrets and desires — one’s decree. as i look out that window of only a year… and ten… and eight and ten more. in time there is only air. this air. this space. this work fills walls and rooms and boxes — and me.
final as it may be — what is, what was, and how we are what we are. especially now — this moment — silenced by a stable song or riff or possibility of year on year — and this odd year. more war, more destruction, more hate… as we sit… resting… watching… listless and motionless.

john ros, some kind of announcement, 01 January 2007

some things never seem to change. we must change these things.