I have no idea what is happening – it’s like throwing pennies off a bridge. I just can’t get comfortable – it seems like the only thing that connects my life and art together is pain – it’s painful when I put them together – and more painful when I pull them apart. In 2007 I quit straddling the pain, quit my job, and moved to a rural studio in New York State. I work on creative projects, work on my life, and work on the day-to-day necessities of existence. No cell phone, no social media, no networking. But as I work on the books displayed on this author’s page; I feel another kind of pain — the pain of not working on something else: my printmaking and drawing are being neglected, my poetry output is a dripping faucet, and it looks like I’ll be telling NYFA that the Idea Enhancement Project just added another year to its timeline. When I read what I’ve just written; it’s as true as anything I can think of — but then so is the opposite: I need to process everything that happens . . .
September 8, 2021
You need to follow both the letters and the numbers to complete this page.
After you connect the dots in the book, hold the page up to a window and a chilling picture is revealed.
I had more ambitious [and more complicated] ideas, but had to scrap them due to the time they would have required. Any pages that were started and could not be completed in a timely fashion were dropped. Limiting the scope of this project to black & white, at least a page a day, and 100 pages, actually increased my comfort zone and kept my destination in view.