A good life resolved in fine shadows.

I am trapped in a hydrangea ; pushed ass over tea kettle and attempting to be delicate which teaching for my hat. The water is boiling and the spaghetti becomes animate are squirming themselves out of the bubbling water. What asphyxiates me is this searching. I had recalled something specific of importance and in its place I rummage quirkiness again and again.

It was about coherence as a pursuit and formulations of coherence in the pursuit of art as an aspect of the author function I have attempted to evade.

Position as it relates to artist practice has much and very little to do with honesty but can have much do with nuanced signification. Honesty places a subject into a position where they assume responsibility for a coherent diffusion of description. That “the work was very honest” grips the bull by the horns. Artists both look to and refuse their individuation as a means of producing. That is it arrives somewhere or dispels horizons all together is another matter. They have a name to uphold. “They have gone back to upholstery as a way to escape the escape they made from painting, again.”

In an economy of anecdotal hierarchy, it is neither the signified nor the signifier that truly matter. The roof might be a thatched roof. The water might have been of agglomerated sources.

W.B