A note relating to these paintings...
September 29, 2008.
Oakland, 1:01 am.
A note from May 18, 2008
that was not transcribed until now…
Think: Where will the work reside? Never mind the basement; of
course it will be in my basement or your basement or the museums'
basements or the dump. But, aside from those detours, where did you
make the work to be? And that leads to who did you make the work
we all know we work for the highest, and the highest is the museum
and the art magazine. An editor told me once "An art magazine is
journalism, and we put on the front the jazziest photo we received
last month." (Hardly the place to find a still, small voice). The
museum, a museum director told me once, is a place "To collect the
finest and to educate the public to its value." And as for what is
the finest, that's a professional judgment formed by conversations
in the profession... hardly the place to hear a solitary, still,
what size should your work be? Big enough to be seen by the masses
of people in museums for education, jazzy enough for journalism to
place on the cover where the museum professionals will see it.
what of the solitary still, small voice—the sound we each hear when
the noise of the world stops—where should that work reside?
to do with and how to make that work not addressed to the
professional world but rather to the solitaries in the midst of
their thoughts. Not loud like a magazine cover but quiet like a
dark, silent despair, not large like a space for educating a museum
public, but small like the inner place of forever grief for a lost
loved one—or for your self.