| October 24, 2000 | |
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seesaw
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| I tried to chew my day. It was like chewing wax, seaweed, slippery elm bark. "When man is experienced as a discontinuous, fragmented being, the painful experience of one's own limitedness can lead to a compensating and unlimited combination of possible images." I take deep breaths. The torso is becoming important. The torso is a presentation and also a vast space, faceless but full of vitality. The torso is both a demand and a state (slate). For Halloween, I'll go tattooed with chalk. My torso is both brittle and tensile, a window envelope. "It would seem as though the question of meaning had been not only purposely garbled but not even asked in the first place. We are faced by a wall of intentional knownothingism: content, as artists have not tired of stating, does not interest them." This morning I thought of the apricot ravine. It started as a fauve landscape, then it turned into a face. It was a wrinkle that became deep and hearing, a wrinkle that I could fall into. I was on a peach planet. This worked until I attempted different colors and then it failed miserably. How do I deal with the apricot ravine? Nothing happens there. "The inspiration for a work, the conception of a picture should be something that has no meaning in itself, no subject either, and from the point of view of human logic 'does not say anything at all'." (de Chirico) Objective in the woods, helplessly clothed in their meanings: a bird with a spread tail flies from a high tree, still green; a large emerald insect buzzes by me, then lands on the underside of a fallen leaf; a gray rock spangled with mica and lichens emerges through the leaf carpet. They were all too real to want to participate. quoting from Max Ernst · Loplop; The Artist in the Third Person, by Werner Spies |