prix garantie

Old sorrows her current ones even as the inner renovations bore deeper dug under the grass between stones exposed, etc. 

Broken English

Above all, I think, my work is to be (become?) lucent. And to model a ‘how to’. Bringing that state out in. I need to spend more time in listener mode for that but with speech often bottlenecked or in solitude, choked, in the rush of opportunity I go for flow. Who wouldn’t. My mother: you are very impatient about certain things and still you have infinite patience for others. She didn’t say “infinite,” maybe endless. She wouldn’t really say “still.” “Infinite” is mine, and “still” is a convention, like somehow, that everyone says here, that I thought was an ESL colloquialism until I saw Ian Penman using it in the Fassbinder book. So everyone needs a middle word. Yes a waiting for is part of all this. And what of those “things,” anyway? To forget and be easy. When a friend told me she wished she could live in some perma-stupefaction, what would that be like, I was stupefied. It’s been a long time since I tried to only be numbed out (back on that again now). As if knowing meanwhile that the Saturn that should someday, somehow leave me shining like a diamond requires a point where mouth meets tail, a place to mark in her being the path of revolution. 

Class dismissed

With certain possibilities for artmaking as 'downloading' taken less seriously in my current context, or at least strained at the tip of exposure, I feel lost in painterly practice, or in its total integration...lost in the things I can do with it, where to go, too many directions, unwilling to push further, unsure of how. To venture deep, to sustain physicality when not only taxed in time but concept, the principles of creation, where it comes from, for me, specifically, undermined at every turn by new flashes of ideation, and their ultimate fizzle into grave stolid anxious churning. Though this is quite common. One issue, the notion of producing something of consequence. Drop that, produce something for oneself. But the self of such a one demands consequence be a part of its formula, demands in the sense of emerging from a knowledge of, a baseline cognizance of what is entailed by introducing x or y variable, etc. The associative properties, imaging the associative mechanism without its content. Not wanting to image, at all. How to be smart (or smart enough) in my artwork. Is my artwork the place where I even want to be ‘smart’? Rather, the intelligence encases. The body instead conducts. I am missing streets, real, vivid streets, to walk through and take from.

about time

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose, Sargent, 1885-6, needs no intro really, my favorite artwork about 'time'. Shooting for this strain of devotional. 

Continuing the thought

It would be braver of me to try to underdo it.