| | | Untitled:
of course…
Of
course, truth was totally elusive, not even hiding in the grain. The blues were
red. The reds were blue. As always, I looked for meaning. He posed for dollars
and perhaps for vanity. We sat round in a semi-circle sketching in vain and in
vanity. Traditionally the studio would smell of linseed. Perhaps the meaning was
in the scent. The meaning's gone acrylic. What are we taking home? A flight to
the moon. I'm going to wash these words, wash them into the grain, and watch the
waffle deepen. Yet I'm going to find meaning here and share, and the meaning will
have something to do with approximation, and something to do with intent, and
with interpretation, and with the "intellegence" of the process which
is kind, though cruel, and cruel, though kind.
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