Yesterday I wandered around West Chelsea going to galleries. I didn't see much that was inspiring but for two sculpture pieces, part of a group show at Luhring Augustine. One was by Mario Merz, and was a huge wall hanging with wire and lavender neon, very beautiful and ethereal. The other, by Pier Paolo Calzolari, also used neon along with leather, rusted steel, and a machine that froze sections of the steel so that they were incased in shimmering frost. It was tucked away in the back room, a bit hard to find, but well worth it.
Walking downtown Y. began to film me with his video camera. He trailed about twenty feet behind me. We did this all the way down to the West 4th St. station, pausing of course for various stops. I bought a belt. We stopped at the Maison Martin Margiela store, a particular favorite, although I never can afford the stuff in there. I did some grocery shopping at Chelsea Market. Later that evening, watching the videos after he downloaded them, I realized for the first time in my life just how compromised my eyesight is. The image captured what someone walking behind me would see. But I was shocked: because of my right eye, my field of vision is cut off. I asked Y, while watching, if the wide angle of the area in front of the camera was similar to what he saw. It was. This confirmed for me that I don't really see much to my right. To the left I have a normal scope, but things on the right are cut off. So instead of having a roughly 180-degree field of vision, mine is more like 110 degrees, and not symmetrical. I don't see the world the way most people do. Well, I already knew that, at least philosophically, but the video made it concrete. And it's no wonder that I walk into things and people as often as I do. And it makes me think that maybe I shouldn't drive at all.