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
While the action pictured here is part of a growing reality in our rural communities, real estate disclosure forms refuse to inform prospective buyers of these agricultural methods, and the health risks and abrogated rights of property owners in an Agricultural District.
When I wrote a letter urging authorities to “update the New York State Agricultural District Disclosure Form and Notice to ensure that prospective buyers understand the financial and health risks of living in an Agricultural District so that they are in a position to make an informed decision” none of those county and state representatives and health officials, even acknowledged receipt.
You Know You Live near a Factory Farm When Your Kids Go Fishing with a Pool Skimmer