To be remembered when it never seems to be enough…
“Just wanted to let you know that I think you work is
beautiful and magical. I especially love how sometimes it’s
not a picture of a person, but more like ‘ oh look, there’s
a person in this picture!’.
You work marvelously with light too.
Thanks for inspiring me.”
Thank you
I’ve come out of the quiet now to start making noise again. I am now living in NYC beginning my MFA in Photography at Parsons. Pictures are sure to follow…
Why I Am Not A Painter
by Frank O’hara
i am not a painter. i am a poet.
why ? i think i would rather be
a painter, but i am not. well,
for instance, mike goldberg
is starting a painting. i drop in.
” sit down and have a drink ” he
says. i drink; we drink. i look
up. ” you have SARDINES in it. “
” yes, it needed something there. “
” oh.” i go and the days go by
and i drop in again. the painting is
finished. ” where’s SARDINES ? “
all that’s left is just
letters, ” it was too much.” mike says.
but me ? one day i am thinking of
a color : orange. i write a line
about orange. pretty soon it is a
whole page of words, not lines.
then another page. there should be
so much more, not of orange, of
words, of how terrible orange is
and life. days go by. it is even in
prose, i am a real poet. my poem
is finished and i haven’t mentioned
orange yet. it’s twelve poems, i call
it ORANGES. and one day in a gallery
i see mike’s painting, called SARDINES.
