-
PLACE NAME HERE
Among all of the so-called artswriting does stand alone.How often have you seen arthanging on gallery wallsand look at the card next to itto see what the work is calledand find that all too uniquitous title,UNTITLED, as if the artist’s powerof language escaped into his brushes.And let’s not talk about composer’swhose work is later numberedand…
-

POSER
For unknown reasons Iwas told I was going tosit for a portrait by a wellknown local artist. It was a gift, so I hadlittle choice but to accept,and so I sat on a chairfrozen in place. I asked how long itwould take and he replied“Not more than four sittingsand then I can go to work.”…
-

SOONER OR LATER
He is cornered and knows itso he responds as honestlyas he knows how withoutturning away his questioner. “You have a basic choice, “he says, “most likely,and that is do you want itto look like this now, or do you want it to looklike this in say thirty years.If you want it looking likethis in thirty…
-

GYOZAN CAN’T SAY IT
The true artist,when askedto draw a perfect tree will lead you to the gardenand have you situnder the great maple.The true masterasked to speak of Dharmawill silentlyface the wallin zazen. A reflection on case 118 of the Shobogenzo, Dogen’s True Dharma Eye Koans
-

PERSPECTIVE
It is always, the artist told me,a question of angles and elevations,but I am sure that was just his perspective. Dali threw all of that out, madea pretty good living at taking perspectiveout of his work, replaced by fluidity. For Dali that fluidity resultedin a fair bit of liquidity, which wasan irony not the least…
-

RED DOT
I have visited countless galleries,stared at or shielded my eyesfrom all manner of art, butI always read the plaquesaffixed to the walls, nameof artist, of work price,the relative amount speakingto the financial state of the gallery. I actually care very little aboutthe name of the artist otherthan as a historical reference,for the piece has already…
-

THINGS TO COME
One morning last week I decidedto plant myself at a busy intersectionand begin reading poetry, mostlymy own, I have to admit. I was generally ignored, my usualstate, and that sadly of most poets,when a scruffy, bearded young manset up easel and paint next to me. The morning seemed to relishthe stillness of this urban way…
-

WYNWOOD
They leap from the walls, they are in your face as you approach. You don’t know what to expect and that is precisely how they wish it. Still, you don’t tire of them, and you don’t recoil, but stare more intently. They engage you, defy you and welcome in the same moment, and you only…