March 2012
14 posts
February 2012
10 posts
I am after God—or rather—I am after the sublime thrill of the knowledge that inanimate forces which could extinguish me are omnipresent and vast. Those powers that carry the potential to smash my every atom lap around my ankles, an undertow of an angry ocean. Space is this sea in its own black night, twinkling with starlit wavelets illuminated by an other-dimensional moon. And yet I stand...
I am very interested in God. I enjoy having God on my dissecting table and seeing how the pieces come apart and go together.
Picasso
Bacchanal with Minotaur, MoMA collection, photo by Renzo Dionigi.
Perhaps this seems obvious to some, but it just occurred to me: Picasso wasn’t a painter. He was a drawer. (I wish that term wasn’t so woefully inadequate.) I haven’t yet read Richardson’s biography of the artist, so forgive me if this is an insight others have made time and again. And this is not a...
