These are the final pieces of this stuff, the remnants of the stacks and stacks of paper and junk that I thought could be in the end the only stuff left -almost -that I could use.
And I will contemplate the rest and begin -well maybe -to keep and collect against. I threw a few out too. Not many. But enough for now.
And these. This! Is hardly about anything except well these are what was finally sitting there and I could sort of arrange it.
I suppose this must happen to a lot of artists. I remember in that book about Miro he was sitting there and was asked, well what is next? And he responded I don't know. Will there be anything or not?
For me an object is something living. This cigarette or that box of matches contains a secret life which is much more intense than that of certain human beings. -Joan Miro
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