2011 is almost done

I've been working on these for awhile and I'm almost though not quite done.  I admire how some few artists can make photographs of their work so quickly -and post them online…that day…it simply impresses me with its conviction.

Each piece is only and always an expression for which I am but an instrument but each piece is also undeniably me.  It's so odd that bit...

Even only two years out these seem like something done in another lifetime ages ago and the scraps of paper and candy wrappers all appear to no longer be available no longer manufactured...

and that's probably true…I hadn't ever thought about it before but they are never made at the same time again…they are all rolled under that horrible giant machine  called time ground up destroyed utterly and completely and ultimately used as manure for the next thing.

And this goes on ever and evermore so that we realize that nothing in its moment has any significance that only memory in its fluidity and liquidity can even put a period to any event any object, only memory can call to order the monstrous confusion that is living.

…and then you die and your thoughts do not go with you.  You simply get ground under with all else.  I remember driving by the airport in St Louis and watching the giant machines humorously and with a sort of planned inevitability rip out the dead from the ground, the old wooden coffins torn to shreds, pieces of putrescence and all sense of peace and respect forgotten for a few weeks while we made room for the new expanded airport.

I suspect that the only way to be remembered -if that is what I'm trying to say  -is by some kindnesses that you force yourself to do.  Naw, that is just a dream.

But I remember an act of kindness Degas did when Gauguin  returned to Paris to create his ultimate failure, his massive show of his new work from Tahiti.  None of it sold, not a single piece…except that Degas had hired a man to anynomously go in and buy eleven pieces from the show.

…And that act always sits next to me.