Re-visiting old sketchbooks (Spring, 2019)

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Meditation: Blue Window (detail)

The opening two sentences of Swedish poet Tomas Transtrõmer’s prose poem The Blue House:

It is a night of radiant sun. I stand in the dense forest and look away toward my house with its haze-blue walls. …

(tr. Robin Fulton; fr. The Wild Market Square, 1983)

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Memory, Nostalgia, Otherness?. . .

What is it about old photographs or, as in this image, photocopies of my own hands—that almost undoes me? This old technology . . . these young hands.

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Mater Box

Mixed media assemblage; a work in process…… well as progress…

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Pulling older box assemblages out of “storage” and re-considering what I was (possibly) thinking about when making them (and also putting them away because they didn’t feel finished). Last night I was reading Donald Kuspit’s mid-1980’s interview with Louise Bourgeois, jotting down excerpts that mean something different and more real to me now than when I read them years ago. For instance, LB: “I am attacked by so many images when I think that I do not think straight. I see images next to each other or overlapping each other—the whole thing is visual; I think visually.”

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