I continue working acrylic onto the new canvases to ground them. I also keep experimenting with ways of abutting them and arranging them that links them aesthetically together. I suppose it is a continuation of How I scroll photos on the blog, or installed drawings at IT IN space.
After the studio, it was out in the sunset East Village for Margaritas with old friends in town from Providence (such a forboding city name)… Somehow the light and air reminded me of Providence and my misspeant youth. I seem to be struck with sudden overwealming bouts of Nostalgia lately. Wonder what that’s all about? I was even tearing up in Spielbergs fairly schmaltzy, The Terminal. He is the cinematic equivilant of a stripper, in that, you know you are being manipulated and lied to just for money, but you some how go through all the feelings anyway… in this case it’s tears and not a hard on, but it’s all the same at the end of the night. When I told Conrad that, he gave one of his aphorisms: “I don’t drink before noon and I don’t watch Spielberg movies…” or something like that. Speaking of Conrad, one of the people in from Providence used to stay in on Friday nights to watch Relativity…. We started talking about Vonnegut’s notion of the Karass (I’m still convinced that Vonnegut would be a better scifi writer to base a religion on than L. Ron Hubbard any day, but then we couldn’t watch Tom Cruise on Auto Destruct). Now that I remember it, Conrad was also dismissive of Vonnegut: “Literature Lite,” I believe he called him. Seems to me that most of our friendship is based on verbal sword play about culture… I’m suddenly nostalgic for my contrarian youth, where it was always about argument, just for sport… like hunting ideas (and fuck Good Will). I don’t have so many people I like to argue with any more…. just myself playing three characters in my head.
