Sunday, February 27, 2011

"It's not provocative, its Gertrude Stein."
 Warm Broad Glow,” in a 2005 installation, is being reconfigured for the Whitney show. 

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

The way it stops and starts

 Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
E.A. Poe

Monday, February 14, 2011

ghostly heart

There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams--not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
repost because...
F. Scott Fitzgerald
image © All rights reserved. : tom palumbo 

Sunday, February 13, 2011

ripples of consequence

"All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence, of history and eternity. Haunted by wrong turns and roads not taken, we pursue images perceived as new but whose providence dates to the dim dramas of childhood, which are themselves but ripples of consequence echoing down the generations."
William Faulkner (via saturnrisingdreaminginthedeepsouth)

Thursday, February 3, 2011

You think you will never forget any of this

"You think you will never forget any of this, you will remember it always just the way it was. But you can’t remember it the way it was. To know it, you have to be living in the presence of it right as it is happening. It can return only by surprise. Speaking of these things tells you that there are no words for them that are equal to them or that can restore them to your mind. And so you have a life that you are living only now, now and now and now, gone before you can speak of it, and you must be thankful for living day by day, moment by moment, in this presence.

But you have a life too that you remember. It stays with you. You have lived a life in the breath and pulse and living light of the present, and your memories of it, remember now, are of a different life in a different world and time. When you remember the past, you are not remembering it as it was. You are remembering it as it is. It is a vision or a dream, present with you in the present, alive with you in the only time you are alive."

— Wendell Berry,
image: camerasinthesky via here

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

all we write is erased, even as you write it

“WIDE, the margin between carte blanche and the white page. Nevertheless it is not in the margin that you can find me, but in the yet whiter one that separates the word-strewn sheet from the transparent, the written page from the one to be written in the infinite space where the eye turns back to the eye, and the hand to the pen, where all we write is erased, even as you write it. For the book imperceptibly takes shape within the book we will never finish.

There is my desert.”
— Edmond Jabès
Ariana Boussard-Reifel, Between the Lines
(via: suicide-by-star) (thanks, M.)

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

there is only you

In the first kingdom
of the stars,
everything is always

…In the second
kingdom of the stars
there is only


-Richard Brautigan, an excerpt from “The Second Kingdom” 
text: aperfectcommotion:
(adapted from caffeineandnicotine)
Sean Kernan, Stars (from The Secret Books)