Abstractions and Minimalism
Lately I’ve been thinking of Rothko, and then sometimes, Monet and Ellsworth Kelly and Norman Lewis and Piet. Then there's my current fascination with composers, Julius Eastman and John Adams... both are recent discoveries.
The End of Everything She Ever Loved About Him
A Fallen Queen in Cobalt Blue
I found her in exile. Cast out to live among the detritus in a forgotten stairwell at the top of a printing house. Once opulent, she now suffers the indignities of dust and unmended cracks in her otherwise regal facade. Still giving face with the best of them... her "Vogue" is everything.
A Fallen Queen, ready for her close-up.
the words never really mattered
Wandering about my usual haunt along the lakefront, and I see them. All dressed in black and looking like those agents from The Matrix. Their gaze, fixed not on the water or shoreline or horizon, but instead, laser focused into their mobile devices.
Viewing the landscape as it is parsed by a function of algorithms then delivered via the tiny screen. A bit like having your chocolate cake eaten by a stranger, then having said stranger describe the experience...
i am the one on the left and she loves me still
And All The While The Distance Grows Between You and Me