bought, and sold, and bought again...
the dove is never free
I'm finally back to (really and emphatically now) reading Patrick's copy of the Houllebecq "art world" novel, The Map and the Territory and am about to go visit Laura, who once when I asked her for her proverbial anthem for an exercise we were doing gave me the literal song Anthem (Leonard Cohen), lyrics above. I am trying to do better about socializing from heart-terms, checking in with the heart map, the verdant dragon's blood a tree still grows in the Yemenite desert cardiothoracic terroir...When I look at my paintings, I swoon a little in the bad, seasick way, and when I look at photos of them it's even worse. I must finish with these tiles soon, it's getting late, it's time to move on. I can't tell if they're improving as I go or just becoming more fractionated, sequential, an evolution but laterally, across, unqualified. Eva Hesse diaries q o t d . . .
Monday May 11. The gutters filled with creepy things and people and my creepy thoughts and I cannot rid myself of myself — nor live!
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