Oh no I'm not done. I could keep going. I could treat the other wall, the west wall, the one I skipped because it gets less light in the daytime. I could treat the north stairwell, the one with the burgundy banner and the Aikido sign. I could head down that stairwell into the basement, I could even collage into the bathroom.
But tomorrow is my second opening for Heighten and I'm going to stop.
Last night I connected the last segment, from the white trash can with the crooked green sticker over the glass panes of the hallway door and down to the fire alarm where I began.
The installation travels now from the Vending Spectrum at the north end, taking in the vintage photographs, looping around above Advanced Precision Learning to radiate into the Bell, tumbling in a cascade of stripes at the 4th of July down to the Mailslot (aka the Volcano), drifting along the Office wall and into the Minute Maid Fruitopia Spout and the Coke Machine Splash.
The Splash trickles down to the Water Fountain, next to the Blue Trash Can Flyaway and so the White Trash Can Stripe and over the door and here we are as I said at the fire extinguisher, about to drift up the stairwell on the Meander.
Upstairs the Pour runs down into the Smear which grows out of the Reeds which connects to the Rain which falls from the Cloud and drifts down to blend into the original Test Patch. The Patch creeps around the corner up over the Defensive Driving School and here the small squares of whitish paper get mysteriously sucked into the Plumbing, which spits some of them out on the floor and sends the rest spewing from another pipe where they emerge as the Sonic Boom of the Senator's Sign. The uppermost whites of the boom float up to drift over like spray from the Fountain that is the Steven Klein LSAT Preparation sign.
Here the eye jumps over a door to the first red and white stripes of the Fire Extinguisher which pierces into the first of the Sol le Witt Awnings. These alternate, white, brown, white and bring us to the north end of the building on the second floor.
Now that I think about it, I've created a giant U on its side.
A U for the U Heights.
It feels like a residency coming to an end, one with a giant studio. Yet it's not really over. The piece will stay up till April 20, after which I'll gradually start bringing it down, in phases so that it disappears as slowly as it arose and the building returns to its former, un-Heightened state.