February 12, 2017 § Leave a comment
And either way, that is on either side of the table it is not for the feint or faint of heart. Which isn’t to say it’s not delightful, but it is opulent. It is obscene. But in its forbearance, annoying though it may be, lies its success, and its provocation, well at least to me.
Each time, and for each who enters there, no matter which side of the table (1000.00 or 30.00 or whatever the four day entry fee was) you are on, to succeed you must know why you are there. You must know what you are doing there, otherwise you are doomed. Otherwise you, one is not up to the rigors of withstanding the onslaughts, and there are many. Fine books to be sure, fine people to be sure, fine views, and conversations and ideas, and community and camaraderie in equal measures. But on the flip side the downside of up, and being called out every which way you go, are you good enough? Smart enough? Right enough? Rich enough? Literate enough? Bookish enough? Hip enough? Conversant? Artist? Writer? Poet? Able? Young? Old? On the list?
And there is no kidding oneself, there is no it doesn’t matter to start with. One can and over a lifetime (artist or otherwise) one does make it to ones own sensibility of mattering, and the aesthetic of it all, but one doesn’t start there, and many with names and experience, many who taught the many who are now the upandcomers were painfully adrift and feeling out of sync and measure somehow not properly given their (sense of their) due, or proper admiration. Never mind their work.
That was a ha!
I confess to having with delight laughed.
black & white and read all over
and made sure to point out the not black and white of it to her nodding boys. I asked the older of the two boys if he knew the answer. He looked blank, I looked to the woman who was also at a loss. “It’s a riddle,” I said, “what is black and white and red all over?” They had no idea. Never having heard such a thing.
When I gave them the answer the older boy asked, “red or read?”
I confess to having smiled. “Well, that’s just the point!”
February 1, 2017 § 4 Comments
not because I can but because I breathe not
because I would die but because I’m not dead because
I breathe and
because I get dressed.
because my eyes are brown. because
the sun is in aquarius or virgo or not.
because I am sad glad mad had
because I am
those who can. must
some would say I’ve always been here saying, say I’ve always had, and given voice to, but there is a particular and impressive clarity now, distilled through and refracted by typography and brought to bear through the stages of letterpress publication which celebrates everything word, and demands nay elicits a sparse certainty,
my work has always involved story telling and listening, with an eye toward elucidating a set of values since in large part it is living in accordance with our values which allows us to know who we are and why we do what we do
which allows us to know why we do what we do and so, who we are
now, it is as an elder with a voice and a press, and perspective born of telling and listening to stories told by my elders and to those who use story to find their way to a possible life
the press: the first social media, which first gave us– the common man– access to the word and to deciphering it,
I keep doing what I’m doing what I’m working on what pops into my field of vision and interest because it all seems to be part of the project I’m working toward.
even if I don’t know how
March 11, 2015 § 1 Comment
It was so many things and I fell in love as I have a wont to do and it was as these things go grand and funny to be part of the conversation, to lose and find my stride awe struck and awe striking, remembering we are who we are willing to take the risk to be, well I mean given the wherewithal no doubt about that,
and of course printing