How cool is this - Laurie made up a word: Munkah.

Very cool. She was carrying a TV to her car when I asked her, my dog in one hand, marker in the other. I had asked these two very shy men working on their car if they'd be interested, but they didn't feel up to the task. I saw Laurie coming out of the apartment and asked. She graciously put her TV down, asking "Just one word?"

Yes, just one word.

And what a cool word it is. Munkah. Now what would munkah mean? It could mean anything. Like - left arm. Or sunny day. Or hey there's a cool show at the bar tonight.

Very nice.

The lovely Lisa L Moore wrote "possibility" on my chest today. Yes, my chest is usually off limits, but she's a dear one and I just loved the idea. She told me that it's from one of Emily Dickinson's poems which she was thinking about today (I Dwell in Possibility). How amazing! How lovely. And Lisa did not know that Emily Dickinson is one of my favourite poets of all time. I love her work. And now, I have a word inspired by one of her poems on my chest. Now isn't that something?

Notice the Polaroid camera's shadow against my T-shirt. Very cool. It's the new old polaroid camera after I lost the other one.

Here's the poem:

I dwell in Possibility--
A fairer House than Prose--
More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors -

Of Chambers as the Cedars--
Impregnable of Eye--
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky--

Of Visitors--the fairest--
For Occupation--This--
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise--

Morgan - you rock! The word of the day is patience... (I love the ellipses). I loved Morgan's though process. We were both in line at the post office. He said, "A word. Hmm, I'm in line at the post office. What shall I put down?" Thank you - I can always use more patience in my life. I like how the photo came out, too.

On a closing note - welcome to my world. I took the photo and then lost the camera. Duh. I think I left it on the stoop. Or maybe on top of my car before driving away. Luckily I have another polaroid camera here at home. But it was a sad moment to realize I had left the very cool yellow polaroid camera after I took the photo. Universe, if you should find it fit to find my camera, I'm here! In the meantime, I've got old missy 1985 polaroid to carry me along.

Rock on Austin.

Oklahoma what are you doing to me?!!! So, after the rejection fiasco on the 25th (Day 10), from which I was rescued by the very kind and compelling Jim, I decided to give Oklahoma another try. This time, instead of asking travelers, I'd ask the folks working at the rest stops.

Dude - two rest stops, gas stations and six people (SIX!!) later, Whitney finally saved my behind. She wrote "Hi." on my hand. Whitney, I sense that you are naturally shy, and that you were just humoring me and I appreciate it. Feeling shocked, slighly dejected, too, I went up to Whitney at the Snak Shak counter. She had nowhere else to go but to the fryers. I said, "Would you like to write on my arm. You can write anything. Even hi. Or bye." So, yes, Whitney - faced with this stranger in your fried cheese midst, you took a risk and wrote "Hi." on my hand. I just want to say, thank you. That's the first hand word I've gotten, and it's great to look down and see it and remember that somewhere in Oklahoma, someone was willing to give this a shot.

But, before I'm done with this story - I have to tell you that the first woman I approached seemed mortified. Not by the fact of writing on my hand, but that I was doing it with a Sharpie. Here's the transcript.

"Hi. I'm a writer. I'm doing this writing project where I'm asking people to write one word on me. I'm writing one word each day for 100 days. Would you like to write a word."
"mmm."
"On my arms. I'm having folks write on my arms, legs or my neck."
"No."
"Really?"
"Yeah- no."
"Why?"
"Just something about it."
And then - she noticed the pen.

"And with THAT pen! That's terrible."
"Why? I'm okay with it."
"Yeah - no. I won't do it. I won't write on you."
"Okay. Thanks."

And I stumbled off, muttering to myself.

As an honor to Whitney and her bravery, I captured the sign in the background: Phillips 66 on I-35 in Oklahoma. Where the price of gas is not as outrageous as it is in Illinois. And where my arm, looking like a chicken drumstick flailing in the rain, reaches out to say: "Hi."

Notice anything funny about the photo? Well, I'll just go ahead and tell you. I cheated. I forgot to take a photo yesterday. So I had to take two photos today. One of yesterday's word (Believe), and one of today's apparent phrase.

That's the other thing. Beverline was very into writing on my arm. She wrote an entire phrase. Hey how are you?

I'm fine. And you?

Ha

That's the hotel elevator in the background. It's that great 70s wood panelling effect.

So the whole reason I'm on a road trip at all is to get to my brother's engagement party in Normal, Illinois. That just tickles me - Normal. Normal, Illinois. I don't why I find that so funny! But anyway...

Naturally, this being a very important day for my brother, I asked him if he'd like to honor me with a word.


He wrote `Believe' on my upper arm. First of all, this photo is hysterical. I feel like Jim Dean or something, with my sleeve rolled up. Then, I start getting this feeling of biker chic - like I have a tat on my upper arm or something.

Believe me. It's been fun.

Here I am at a rest stop in Oklahoma - off of route I-44. It's the rest stop with "the largest McDonald's in the world". Or so they say. It's this huge glass monstrosity overlooking the highway. The great thing was - they had chai at the cafe attached to the McDonald's. Anyway - so I have my chai, and I'm sitting outside. I got my FIRST REJECTIONS today. Yes. The very first. And not just one, but three. I first went up to one guy and he listened to me very politely (got to hand it to Midwesterners on the polite tip), and then very firmly said, "No, thank you." I was shocked. Then, I went up to this other guy, a big bear of a guy and I asked him if he'd be interested in writing on my arm for a writing project. He responded with a clear, "No." At this point, I realized I was no longer in Austin, Texas. I was in...Oklahoma. So, I decided to try approaching a woman. But, as I called to this woman, she gently clutched her purse and walked briskly away. Sigh.

So, Jim, sweet Jim was standing by the door waiting for his friend/wife/partner? and I went up to him. He seemed kind of concerned with the seriousness of the project. He said, "It's got to be a word of some significance." "Sure." I responded. So, after I explained the project to his friend/wife/partner - no need to get someone riled up - he very pointedly wrote the word`Remember' on my arm.

Well, Jim, I will most certainly remember your kindness.

Walking away, I surmised that they were probably from Texas. Maybe even California. Who knows - maybe they were from Oklahoma. That would be a relief.

I'm not usually literal. But I am today. I'm feeling very literal. Like, I'm going on a car trip to Illinois, so I went to rent a car. I asked Adrian to write a word on me. He wrote "carro" - car in Spanish. I took the photo in a car.

That's literal. Am I embodying the car today as I drive up I-35? Am I a car simply by association? Is my arm the vehicle? Does the photograph then become the car itself merely because it includes both the word and the image? Magritte might have something to say. Or not.

Enough. Folks, the word. The photo. The car.

Day 8: Today I ran into Stephanie Lang at the supermarket today. We were going about grocery shopping. I'm buying food for the road trip I'm taking over the next couple of days on my way to Illinois. I was wandering around the supermarket, kinda doofy, you know. In my t-shirt and jeans. And I saw Stephanie walking out the door (I was asking the guy at the front about where I could find freezer packs for my cooler) and the sharpie leaped out of my back pocket. I called out:

"Hey Stephanie."
She, as always, gracefully turned in my direction.

"Will you write a word on me?"

She wrote weakness. weakness. That is a beautiful word.

I like how in the photo it's disappearing into the sky. weakness.

Plegaria...there are at least four (punk) rock songs (at least) with the word plegaria in Spanish. And some boleros, etc. It's to plea, to plea before a spiritual G-d specifically. Yeah. I got plegaria on my arm today. A call for something?

Fresia wrote the word in huge beautiful capital letters. All across my forearm. Yeah! I love big letters.

I don't have any relationship to that word, except to think about people walking for miles on their knees in the hopes of having prayers answered. Or sitting before altars. All very Catholic and Latin American. Plegaria...

Mercy at the newstand wrote on me:

RAN-ANIM
Hi.

And then something she scratched out.

From my fist you'd think I was feeling defiant. But no, I was trying to flex my muscles for a good photo.

I asked Mercy what Ran-Anim meant. She said it meant hello. I think the word is Micronesian. From Palau. Very cool to go home with a greeting on my arm.

Did I mention I am SO excited to be going back to Austin. No dis on Oregon, but the cold. Ooh. The cold.

It's only Day 5, but I woke up with cramps and almost forgetting about the project. Yeah. Cramps do that to me sometimes. They make me grouchy. But, when I saw the bright yellow Polaroid camera sticking out of my bag, I remembered: I need a new word! Before I leave the homestead. It's raining out, so the light contrast is beautiful. That's even more motivation. So, I asked Keetje to write on me.



She wrote PRAYER. She said she's been thinking about G-d out here in the woods. I get it; this place has a way of doing that to you. If you stare at mountains, stars and woods long enough, you start to drift into some other sense of time and place. Still, given these shifts, it's funny how I could almost forget I was doing this. Well, the cramps don't help either.

Prayer - the word makes me think of the line "Your breath is your prayer." Someone wrote that. I can't remember who. But, it'll come back to me.

I like the cowlick at the back of my head. Though the sweep over the top is a little reminiscent o what middle-aged balding guys do - you know - when they `sweep' the three hairs on the top of their head over the big bald globe. To try and cover up the fact of their baldness. Yeah - I've got the sweep totally going on.

Serpentine
Serpentine
Serpentine

Serpentine: not just an adjective to refer to a snake like nature or composition [I think Frank likes snakes - he was telling us about hanging plastic snakes in trees to keep birds away from the orchard - or putting snakes on the tops of sculptures to keep birds from shitting on them]....but also, it refers to the stone from which chrome is extracted.

Dude - I learn something new every day. It's a cool stone, too. After he wrote the word on my leg, we all went for a hike in the river valley. I spent the day looking for serpentine. Of course, it's not a local stone, but hey, who cares! Well, Frank had a lovely, gorgeous specimen in the living room. I felt instant kinship with this rock, a shiny black. It's like you could see the chrome just aching to burst out.

I wanted to take a photo of my leg next to Frank's eyes. He has these incredible eyebrows. He would have been into it. But, I'm discovering my own shyness. I went into the room and stuck my foot up on the window sill and photographed my leg. That's my sleeping bag. Does my leg look like a snake?

So this morning I'm in Portland, Oregon. About to embark into the southwestern Oregon wilderness. I asked Marie if she wanted to write on me. Now, Marie is a cool lady. She's just cool. So, I was kinda nervous when I asked her (you know - like who's this random person in my house asking me if I'll write on her?), and she was like, Yeah. I think there's a theme here people. NERVOUS. I'm hoping that soon I'll be less self-conscious, but who knows.



So, then, Marie said she'd write on my calf. "I like legs." she said. She wrote: Effusive (unduly demonstrative, lacking reserve; pouring out, overflowing) and finished by saying, "I hope I spelled it correctly." You did, Marie. It's spelled correctly.

But, it's cold up here in Portland folks. That's why the photo came out a little bland. Doesn't my leg just look cold? Yeah.

Abuja is gone. Brachiate is fading. We're off to the woods.

I love these words, covering me like new skin.

So I did it. I went up to security at the airport and asked a random person to write on my body. Granted, it was Austin, so I was still being a little bit of a chicken (folks are nice here), but I couldn't stand the idea of having to deal with a mean person in the San Francisco airport, so I went up to the security desk outside Gate 14 and asked the two guys sitting there if one of them wanted to write on my body. Their expressions were priceless. And then David agreed to write on my arm. He was on break, so he said "sure".



So then after I got him to write on my arm, it was a matter of trying to figure out how to photograph the image and not get into trouble. So, here I am on the plane. Check out chickie in the background. Hysterical!

The word of the day: brachiate - to have widely spreading branches (in botany); to have arms (zoology); to get along by swinging from tree to tree.

Now what were you thinking about David?

The word Abaju is fading. It's melting into my skin. You can see little dots where my pores are searching for air through the ink.

Tomorrow I'm going to be flying. I'm getting a word from someone at the airport. I don't know who yet. But, it might be a few days before I can post the images. Unless they have a scanner in the terminal. Who knows? Sometimes they do.

Until...

I woke up this morning slightly hesitant, nervous, like I always feel nervous about getting on stage or reading a new poem aloud for the first time. It's slightly delicious. Slightly dizzying. And then, I rushed out into the world and tracked down the first word. I didn't have to go far. Just into the studio where Wura Ogunji was working. She wrote it, picked it out of the Yoruba Modern Practical Dictionary.

It is the capital city of Nigeria.

That's her toe. My chair. My left arm. The word, `Ab'uj`a.

it's saturday; i have four days to go before the new moon. before i get my first word. i am feeling impatient. my body is impatient for the word, for the ink. i am excited by the anticipation of it all. what word will the first person choose? how will they choose it? what will their handwriting look like on my skin? i crave it - the sensation of the ink on my skin. the word itself. i can't explain it. something about the way the word looks on my skin. black sharpie ink against copper. more beautiful than black ink on paper. and without the pain of a tattoo. wait. wait.

okay. i have to confess. i just tried it out. the sharpie. i tried it out on my left arm, just to see if it would work. it does. there is a word there right now, but it doesn't count. it's just a trial run. to see if the ink will stick. to see what it weighs as i wave my arm around in the air. it's just one small word. really has more to do with what i'm thinking about in terms of getting ready. i have to go get the film tomorrow. i have a set of sharpies on hand. but i have to go get the film. i have the camera. i'm going to be taking polaroids. that's the word i wrote: polaroid.

i mentioned that i'm doing this to a friend over the phone. she lives in colorado. i'm in austin, texas. she said she'd like to give me a word. i hadn't thought about inviting friends in distant places to give me words. if they do that, they must also give me locations. but i will miss their touch. i will miss the way their writing looks on my skin. so i don't know. i'm going to have to think about that possibility. perhaps i am being greedy. but i don't think so.

i'm traveling over the next couple of weeks. i wonder if i should ask someone at security to write a word on me.

it means that a few of my first words won't appear the day they're written. bear with me. be patient.

and then i'm thinking about the name of this piece. Written on the Body works right now, but i'm feeling the push of another title lingering at the back of my throat. don't be surprised if it changes during the course of the 100 days.

i have to shave my legs, too. they're hairy. not too hairy. but hairy enough. the writing surfaces will include my arms, my legs up to my knees, my back, my neck, my hands and feet. no face, no chest/stomach/thighs action going on. i decided. so yes, shaving legs it is.

okay. i'm going to go show off my word. or maybe, i'll just sit under the lamp and admire it for a minute. i must wash it off. it doesn't count.

Written on the Body

During my residency at Atlantic Center for the Arts, and during one of the endless nights of debauchery and karaoke, visual artists Andrea Claire and Amanda Riner selected and wrote words on our bodies. That inspired me to begin a project titled "Written on the Body" (yes - a riff off of Jeannette Winterson's book Written on the Body, as well).

Over the course of 100 days, beginning on May 16, 2007 (the new moon) I will be asking people to select words at random - either from books or from the air - to write on my body.

I'm interested in examining the questions of what constitutes the intimate, how language transforms itself from a random act into an intentional one, how strangers can create connection through art and how my body can act as a site for language and dialogue. I will be photographing (using Polaroid film) each of the words and posting them in chronological order, though eventually I hope that they will be taken out of order. This is an exercise in poetics and performance. And I'm excited to see what turns out.

Ana-Maurine Lara