THE CONCEPT OF NONESS

I was listening to someone, telling me “no.” I watched, as they held their finger up, wagging it — like a little, defining ruler, ready to smack me on the head. And I realized that the first inclination, in considering that word, was —...

THE HEART OF BULLETS

WALKING THE DESERT I came to a place of bullets, by the thousands — some, to casings — others, to spent bullet shells of the brass made. These lie in the sun like golden teeth — knocked out, scumbled in the sand, fragmented and dusted with other...

THE CRANK OF WATER

Being out on the opening plain, in the bold light(en)ing of the sun cast, black earthen shadows — the desert, the wind rips across the line, tumbleweeds roar across the dustscape. And I find this windmill, that’s taking me back to the same old place, back...

THE MAP OF MIND

I was studying the different scratching on the surface of a wall — in a room that was covered with the graffito — Latin for “little scratching” — of hundreds of people. Except that they didn’t only write on the wall, but incise...

THE CONCEPT OF THE (W)HOLE

Being at the DIA | Beacon, NY, up the Hudson, there are a series of installations by some of the greatest artists on the planet — classical emplacements involving the highest theories of each, a kind of portfolio of perfected legends. Those that are still...