January 31, 2009.
Montreal, late afternoon to dusk.
No one will ever ask what you wanted of your work; and you will only get from it whatever you get—of which the world will make what it will or nothing.

#1 February was begun as “It was a dry time in a dead world marked by ruin, loss and heart break.” An hour before  I had thought of it as a red Day of the Dead skull like I saw once in Mexico City with green branches growing up though it.

And, I need my words (like “It was a dry time…heart  break”) in making my work because my work grows out of my conversation with it.

Put a little green tree at the top of the black panel (and the sun shining blessing it all?).

February 1, 2009
Montreal, 1 am.
Working on #1 February.Put in the tree and the sun. The painting is done.

February 4, 2009
Montreal, morning in Café Crème on Victoria.
Breeding and building
Building and breeding
That is our life.

And when the breeding is over and we are too weak to maintain the building?

Montreal Studio, night.
Working on #3 February 2009.
What it says on the painting—
“They will do everything to console you but it’s only dust and death,” and “You will always come back.”

Sure, “seed to flower to fruit to fall to rot to seed to flower…” Or, as it was in the Harvest Basket in Beulah Land, “Where have all the flowers gone? Gone to young maids every one. Where have all the young maids gone? Gone to young men every one. Where have all the young men gone? Gone to soldiers every one. Where have all the soldiers gone? Gone to graveyards every one. Where have all the graveyards gone? Gone to flowers every one. Where have all the flowers…”

#4 February 2009.

February 5, 2009.
Montreal, night, working on #4 February.
It says on the painting, ”Yes, we will go down into the dirt; yes, we will live again.”

February 7, 2009
Montreal, night.
#4 February 2009 complete. And now it says on the painting something like, We will be dirt at the bottom, but we will live. “

#5 February 2009.

February 8, 2009.
Montreal, early morning.
On waking, an image of a curled up blob of flesh—embryo?—twitching and drooling. Birth, Death? Only time will tell.

Montreal, late afternoon.
Make #5 February 2009.
What it says on the painting...
“It was a dry time in a dead world,” and “YOU NOW.”

#7 February 2009.

A Man's Story
Read next column for what the painting says►

February 13, 2009.
Montreal, late night.
Working on #7 February 2009. Untitled, a man’s story.

Some of what it says on the painting...
Painting teaches the laws of sight, and thus the laws of life: cock in cunt is to plant the tree. All else for cock is only blood in the gutter: DEATH.

What will it be when night follows day and then no dawn comes after?

There is only one sunrise: the generations; and there is only one sunset: the generations. "Sunrise, sunset, the world goes round..."

And it also says five times...
Yes, we go down into the dirt, and yes, we will live again.

And in another place it says...
Wandering lonely as a cloud, or a lump of dirt  crushed into the dust of eternity by God's footprint. And there's a drawing of the lump, and there's the words, "YOU TOO."

Click the image for #s 8-12 February 2009