AUTHOR.CALHO: If I didn't write it, I would be hitch hiking cross country to Maine and then Alaska in that order. While taking frequent breaks to spread leaflets. And sit in diners. And write on things because I wasn't at a computer. I may still do that in a few years. Writing this also helps me forget about and better understand the limitations of being human, and keeps me busy enough to allow me no free time to burn the world down.

THEMATIC.ABOUT : Collapse often. The things that hold people together and hold them apart and scatter brains. The things that make thoughts go boom. The things that ooh and aah and [expletive deleted]. Sometimes poking around the margins where responsibility ends and the only one to look to is the Original Equipment Manufacturer and say "but, I already pressed 9 for more options and the menus are exactly the same. Can you just replace it?" The answer will be: "please hold." Sometimes hanging out in dark corners. Sometimes following the train tracks. Looking for ways out and ways in and all the while sharing the things seen and heard and done and drawn and written and scorched and healed and teased and caged and dreamed along the way.

12/5/14

A Thought on Canvases

I made a drawing yesterday.  It was good.  By good I mean I liked it and art is done for you.  The drawing was small and took very little time to compose.  Better than good, it was a pleasure to assemble and even more pleasurable to see outside of my skull.  A nice thing about it is that now that it's free I can compose more.

The thought occurred though, holding the sheet of paper up to a light bulb so that I could see it backward and see if the proportions worked correctly, was that I allowed my canvases to grow bloated.  I allowed the canvases to exceed my ability to fill them.  With time of course, any canvas can be filled.  Tortuously.  Screamingly.  With terrific agony.  I'm not there yet.  I was there and it got very ugly for too long and I gave up.

Everything doesn't have to be bigger, better, bigger!, better!.  It reminded me that I select the canvas.  The canvas does not select me.  The sensation was comforting.  "Why has my art gone to hell?"  Maybe it is you that has gone to hell to doodle?  Feel free to back up.  Circle round.  There is no gun to your head.  Don't forget to stop and enjoy what you can do with a smile.




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