It’s tough when you can’t imagine your artwork hanging above a couch.
When in art school i wanted to do a visual essay. i planned a photo shoot. We’d push a chesterfield couch underneath along the wall of the exquisite impressionist’s room or the riotous blue rider collection w/ friends socializing, drinking + carousing + napping (passed out) on the furniture - snapping photos along the way. Well, the folks at the Met absolutely refused to budge on this thesis. Rats, impending the creative process, i thought. Much later i reckoned i could do this all in photoshop - but i felt the immediacy was lost in that second generational process.
Extreme consequence usually are.
Agape is the highest charity of love. As if charity needed an outing.
i wake very early because that is the time of day when i am most optimistic.
By nightfall i’m done in.
It’s like watching the 1.5 hour film requiem for a dream stretched out over an 18 hours. A film that in the watching you slowly loose the will to live. + having undergone loosing the proverbial will to live, you must take the 6 hour break for sleep to let your dreams work + rearrange your priorities. + hopefully one of them is to live on.
It never bothers me to know how the film ends up - it’s the telling that interests me. Actually knowing the end keeps anxiety of the the telling at bay.
This brings me back to the couch.
-from Green Wood Cemetary / brooklyn nyc