Learning to Love you More

I sort of love Miranda July, I think "Me and You and Everyone You Know" was an amazing book/movie/art project.

And this website that she's a part of, Learning to Love you More , is one of my favourite internet projects to waste time looking at. You've probably seen it, but if you haven't, there are a number of assignments that visitors to the website accept, complete and document. The idea is that, as a collective, we're making an art project, and I think it's a neat thing to take part in. Often, creativity comes out of structure, as anyone who has struggled with writer's block, overwhelmed by the number possibilities, can understand. I sort of hated school, but the fact that it forces you to create all of these ideas and projects is kind of great, and we generally lack that after we leave school.

"Learning to Love You More is both a web site and series of non-web presentations comprised of work made by the general public in response to assignments given by artists Miranda July and Harrell Fletcher. Yuri Ono designs and manages the web site.
Participants accept an assignment, complete it by following the simple but specific instructions, send in the required report (photograph, text, video, etc), and see their work posted on-line. Like a recipe, meditation practice, or familiar song, the prescriptive nature of these assignments is intended to guide people towards their own experience.

Since Learning To Love You More is also an ever-changing series of exhibitions, screenings and radio broadcasts presented all over the world, participant's documentation is also their submission for possible inclusion in one of these presentations. Past presentations have taken place at venues that include The Whitney Museum in NYC, Rhodes College in Memphis, TN, Aurora Picture Show in Houston, TX, The Seattle Art Museum in Seattle, WA, the Wattis Institute in San Francisco CA, among others.
Since LTLYM inception in 2002 over 5000 people have participated in the project."

"The best art and writing is almost like an assignment; it is so vibrant that you feel compelled to make something in response. Suddenly it is clear what you have to do. For a brief moment it seems wonderfully easy to live and love and create breathtaking things. In this section we have archived some of the work that has commanded us in this way. In a sense, these are assignments -- in the same way that the ocean gives the assignment of breathing deeply, and kissing instructs us to stop thinking."


Assignment #30
Take a picture of strangers holding hands.
Kara Smith

Assignment #30
Take a picture of strangers holding hands.
Anthony Mehlhaff
Los Angeles, California USA



Assignment #55
Photograph a significant outfit.
"I wore this outfit the day that my girlfriend said she liked my friend, and after we broke up, I ended up kissing her sister and realized I don't like girls."
Karin Bunch
St. Petersburg, Florida USA

"I was wearing this the night I went to the Daft Punk concert."
Rafael Medeiros
Rio de Janeiro, BRAZIL

"What I was wearing the night he and I ended up dancing in the street at 6 AM"
Alba Mayol
Barcelona, SPAIN


Assignment #51
Describe what to do with your body when you die.
Caroline Knueppel
Milwaukee, Wisconsin USA


After I die i would like to donate my body to science under the condition that my skeleton, in it's entirety, will be cleaned up and displayed as my Final Self-Portrait.

Andrew Anthony Harrison
Wrexham, WALES


I wish my body to be shaved, every last hair to be removed. Then I want body art, the ones that raise the skin and create them weird ridges and horns put under my skin. Then I wish to have my body tattooed all over in the style of red and green scaly skin. Then, still naked, be put into a tank of formaldehyde, methanol, ethanol mix to preserve my body for as long as possible. The I wish the tank to be taken to public places all around the world and left there for as long as possible.

Melanie Harris
Toronto, Ontario CANADA


When I die, I would like for no one to be sad. I hate when people die, and I hate how long it takes for the sadness to go away. So, my wish is that everyone gathers together and stays happy. My body can be put in a box and cremated right away so I don't get all nasty. Then everyone can gather around my ashes and my parents will cook some foods for all my loved ones.
Everyone will drink French red wine from 2003, and eat a selection of cheeses chosen by my mother and father, together. There will be olives, and pastis, and absinthe, and some proscuitto on breadsticks. There will be no main course because my parents will be sad, and I don't want to burden them with having to cook all this shit for me if I'm not going to be there to eat it. I don't want my dead body around the food. Make sure my cat is there also, so that everyone can give him all the love he needs, and make sure my friend Laura takes Randy home with her, because I want him in good hands, and I know Randy likes gingers, so Monster can be a friend for him. Grumble too. Desert will be carrot cake, with the plastic people that my mom use to hide in the Easter loaf when we were kids. Whoever ends up with the plastic person (I think it was a king) will win a prize, I would say that the prize is all my stuff.... that person can go through my shit and take everything they want (Excepting Randy).

After the food, everyone can go to the room where my ashes are, and do their thing. Say whatever you feel like about me...the good and the bad; cause there will be lots of both.

After all this, my sister Alexia will have to bring my ashes to Switzerland. I want her to take me as carry-on luggage; I'm NOT going with the cargo. She can spread my ashes above Vevey, in Mt. Pelerin, or Signal de Bougy. Her choice. Tell everyone I am sorry for dying but don't be sad because it was my time to go.

Michael M.
Odenton, Maryland USA

I would simply like to be buried, completely intact, along with my gaming controllers that I have.

Assignment #37
Write down a recent argument.
Jeffrey Yamaguchi
Brooklyn, New York USA


Me: "You're not a real fan."
Wife: "I'm not a real fan? I'm not a real fan? What are you talking about?"
Me: "You're not a real fan."
Wife: "I was watching basketball way before you."
Me: "But you're not a real fan."
Wife: "I got you into basketball. I'm the real fan."
Me: "I'm the one who goes now. I go on just regular ol' nights and watch the games."
Wife: "You didn't even want to stay last night and watch the end of that Spurs game."
Me: "Yeah, but you only want to watch the playoffs
You're a playoff fan. Not a real fan. A playoff fan is the worst kind of fan."
Wife: "I wanted to stay last night."
Me: "I go all the time, though. See, I like to go and just hang out and drink beer and eat chicken wings."
Wife: "That's because you like the chicken wings."
Me: "It's because I'm a real fan."
Wife: "Yeah, you're a real fan
A real fan of chicken wings."

Assignment #37
Write down a recent argument.
Gemma Hamilton
Edinburgh, SCOTLAND


At my brother's apartment in Austin, Tx.
The guest toilet becomes blocked and water pours over the rim. My brother is in another room.
Siste
Brother comes running: What?
Sister: It won't stop. It's blocked.
Brother: Well turn it off.
Sister: How? I don't know how.
(Water is rapidly covering the bathroom floor).
Brother: Just turn it off.
Sister: How?! Tell me!
Brother: (agitated) Christ, you really are a retard. What on earth did you do to it? Ew, my feet are getting wet!
Sister: (shouting) Well then turn it off!
Brother: Cretin.
(Reaches the valve and finally stops the flow.)
Look at this place! How much paper did you use?
Sister: What? I didn't do it deliberately.
Brother: You just turn the valve to stop the flow.
Sister: Well I didn't know. My toilet at home doesn't have one.
Brother: They all have one. God, this is disgusting.
Sister: Mine's concealed, how was I supposed to know?
Brother: It's not bloody hard. Only you could do this.
Sister: Don't yell at me. These American toilets are weird, they block easily.
(Surveying the inch of water on the floor.) We need to clean this up. Do you have a mop and plunger?
Brother: No
Sister: Why?
Brother: 'Cause I don't go around blocking toilets. Christ. I don't even know a place that would sell one at this time.
Sister: HEB.
Brother: We've just come from there. Argh.
Sister: Look, we'll just drive back and pick up a mop, plunger and some bleach.
Brother: Right, that won't look dodgy in the slightest.
Sister: God, I'll fix it. OK?
(Brother leaves room).
Dick.




Assignment #37
Write down a recent argument.
Cindy
Seattle, Washington USA


Nick: Next time why don't you just give me a deadline for when you want me to reply!
Me: There is no deadline. It's just that I thought you were too busy to reply until I saw that you had time to make several postings on your blog. And what's worse is that one of your more elaborate postings contained a picture of some groceries you bought and a lengthy description of your purchases: "I got this mango, detergent and sponge for only 5NT!" Seriously? It's nice to know that I rank behind the oh-so-important sponge blog.
Nick: I'm not interested in fighting with you. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings but I'm afraid that I will do it again.
Me: No, you won't.

Assignment #63
Make an encouraging banner.
Ashley Rose
Fullerton, California USA




Assignment #63
Make an encouraging banner.
Verena Matuschek
Nordrhein-Westfalen, Muenster GERMANY


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Write your life story in less than a day.
Anonymous
San Francisco, California USA


I was born in 1972, the day after my parents got married while stoned at the same church that Ron and Nancy Reagan were married. My parents and my half brother (who is 14 years older than me) lived in various apartment buildings in North Hollywood and then finally a house. I was a more or less happy, albeit very shy, child. The atmosphere in my house was one of extremes. Feast or famine, happy or sad, yelling or silence. My parents fought a lot and separated constantly. My mother was an alcoholic, my dad and brother, potheads. They were loving to me but not so much to each other.

When I was 10 we moved deeper into the San Fernando Valley. My mom stopped drinking. I had no friends and was miserable, until I met one friend and then another, who remains my best friend to this day. Countless days were spent trolling the hills and abandoned houses, looking for secret places to hide. My friends and I fantasized about meeting Duran Duran and covered our walls with posters. I started junior high right around the time my parents divorced and my dad moved out. He remarried soon after. I cried in the car when my mother told me.

In high school I met a group of people that I still know and who became my best friends throughout my teenage years. We did lots of drugs and spent summers driving through the Southwest, through Native American reservations, repairing houses, making out with each other, dropping acid. I hated school and ditched whenever possible, usually with my friend L, an artist with whom I would drive to downtown Los Angeles at every chance we got. I started hanging out at a café on 6th and La Brea and was introduced to artists, drag queens, dilettantes, drug addicts. My people. I fell in real super love with a guy and began a tortuous three year relationship with him in which we screwed around a lot but never committed to each other. It was very dramatic. I wrote about him a lot.

After barely graduating high school I went to community college and tried to become a beatnik. Met my first real official boyfriend and had sex for the first time, under the influence of muscle relaxants and rum and cokes. I was living back in the city with my mom, and things were good as she finally had a steady job. We made it through the LA riots. I went to lots of Jane's Addiction shows. I took a jazz appreciation class and started seeing jazz shows. The boyfriend dumped me once, and then again, after a bad mushroom trip. I started having anxiety attacks. I couldn't sleep until the sun came up. I couldn't be in a public place without feeling like I was going to drop dead or do something crazy. I filled up a big journal almost monthly. I thought I was possessed. I went a little insane. I smoked and drank a lot. Eventually, it passed.

I fell in love again. It was unrequited, but I didn't care. I just loved him. We took lots of road trips up and down the coast from SF to LA. I moved to Santa Cruz to go to college. Had a falling out with guy I loved. My mom lost her job, my dad lost his wife/; both had nervous breakdowns. My grandmother died. I lived with hippies. Hated SC. Discovered I wanted to be a writer. Didn't make it into the program. Barely ever went to class. Still suffered from anxiety attacks. Met a boy. Drank a lot with him. Started doing crystal methadrine. Got dumped by boy. Spent a summer in LA, working at the coffee shop I used to frequent as a teen. Had weird, random, glamorous in that druggie sort of way hook ups. Went back to SC and met another boy. Was dirt poor. Stupidly moved in with him. He didn't like me to leave the house. Slept on the kitchen floor a lot. Left him and went back to LA.
Went back to SC to finish college. Met a good boy. Loved him madly. Graduated with a degree in American Literature and moved up to Berkeley the next day. Stopped doing crystal methadrine. Worked at a French deli and at a film organization. Hated Berkeley. Moved back to SC. Lived with boyfriend then got my own place. Everyone was doing heroin except me. Moved to San Francisco.

Worked at a weekly newspaper in the personal ad department. Met two women who would become great friends. Quit smoking. Lost 40 pounds. Got another job at a book publisher. Had an alcoholic boss who slept with all her authors. Vowed to get out of corporate publishing. Worked in a local literary legend's living room for a year. Went insane and left there, too. Got some money from my great aunt and decided to drive to NY and back to clear my head.

Came back and fell into a random corporate job. Moved in with boyfriend. Broke up with boyfriend. Started smoking again. Gained back 20 pounds. Went out a lot. Met some fantastic people. Met some pretty stupid people. Met X. Became inseparable from her. Met a group of guys. She married one; I fell in and out of love with one. Went a little crazy. Started a magazine. Started playing drums. Joined a band. Met M. Became inseparable from him. Joined his band. Stopped hanging out with stupid people. Stopped drinking so much. Stopped doing things I don't like to do so much. Moved into my own place. And that's where I reside now.