Discharged

CANADA DRY | LOS ANGELES JULY 4
[The Deduction of Objects from their Shadows is Flawed.]
charcoal, acrylics, dry color pigments, glue, hairspray on canvas

30x40cm

2011

A NURSERY RHYME FOR PLATO'S CHILDREN,

[and so the list of things I owe to you continues].

Hark to my eyes he said

I got them chased all across the land

Hark to my eyes he said

I got them buried below in the sand

and when you come home late with no army coat on

and the night is in the eyes of everybody's pride

like cherry apple pie

Hark to my eyes he said

for they have seen many a covert hand

Hark to my eyes he said

for they have laid low on many a desert strand

and did not go blind ‖

Not quite dead. No quite.

Some kind of status update is in order.

While I'm still here in good old Berlin, consuming the first bubbles of summer, the other, more mobile gingerbread is travelling throughout the US of A. I hope to hear from her and her adventures into the realm of art, peanut butter and twinkies regularly.

Meanwhile, maybe even I will make myself heard a little more often. Just a little.
For I am not dead yet.

Not quite.