Antoni Tapies is a man after my own heart: Like Twombly and Johns and Rauchenberg and Kline… it seems everything I try, one of them tried it first, but Tapies is something special… I suppose it is that Catalan exoticism that the French loved so much in Picasso… that rage and sex and passion… temptations and the apples of knowledge leading to a child-like sophistication.
For those of you who have been following the Hitler/Clark drawing, it is still going, so I am still posting photos of its Pilgrim’s Progress. Just scroll down a ways… He is another brick in my wall. Honestly, starting to edit all the Willoughby pieces I’ve made during my residency at The Institute for the Future of the Book, is daunting. It feels a bit like the apple hanging from the tree. The second I bite in, my world will no doubt transform into “EDITING VIDEO/BUILDING E-BOOK” world… which is rife with all nighters and general time warps. But then I’ve been more or less doing that with the blog all spring anyways… so eat eat… you’ll like it, it’s sweet: DOLCE. Seemed nice to see Tapies beneath the American flag. He is not as well loved here as he is in Europe. He kills me nearly always with his cement like textures made of marble dust and animal glue… he meditates in a Zen manner and then Pow makes the most fierce gestures since D.K. Makes Twombly look a little impressionist. Those Spaniards are great ones for fateful gestures… must be bull fighting that gives them to courage.
