Wednesday, August 28, 2013
The longer I live and the more I write, I realize that the true product of my existence is the diary. The Real Diary, the one I have written since 1969, now amounting to 155 notebooks. And so I have begun a Tumblr which addresses this fact.
I am not sure how much of all the actual entries I will post. The first five years might not make it as I am such a lousy writer as a teen. But I did draw some fun teenage concerns - clothes, drugs, music and boys - they are described both visually and literally, so I may just scan and upload images.
Something interesting, something heavy is the essential material quality of them all. We can stuff life into something teeny-tiny if we manifest digitally. These notebooks do not operate in that way. They bear the stains of the times.
Today I posted the above image, Diary No. 108, written between August and November in 2001. The smoke was photographed from across a river. I pasted just the edge of the horror.
at 1:39 PM
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Listen to the interview here.
The Portland Art Museum is currently presenting a snug and smart exhibition by Sherrie Levine. I loved this show and look forward to talking to curator Bruce Guenther about it. He will be my guest on Art Focus this coming Tuesday, the 27th.
at 8:02 AM
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Thursday, August 1, 2013
A friend observed that while as a rule he tended to move forward to what was in front of him, I was more circular, reflective and in process of the past. Not a moral judgment, he says. I should say not. The past is not even past, I am more convinced than ever. I need room to reflect and savor what happened.
Perhaps this is rooted in a childhood in the country. I lived on a dirt road which met another dirt road. You come across someone or something on a dirt road, it matters. It could be monumental, processed over days and night, in your imagination, whether it is a toad, a snake, a waterfall, a boy.
I would always
say: “Everything matters here.” But maybe the opposite was true. New York
And all throughout my childhood, I learned about art. Art was and is experiential, a part of the reflective process and way of life. Art is not an object. Great art you can experience time and time again with new responses and information coming your way. I used to think that museums in great cities provided the ultimate lesson in what art provides, but I've changed my mind on that. In my case, I could get it out of a book or a magazine out in the middle of nowhere and did for years.
at 9:31 AM