The paintings have their own half life.


The weird catch in in the throat, that this is happening in fine grain

A clear linguistic fact and experiential fact of our existence as confronted with the ‘alien’ in the human

At the same time as we are always barreling inside the alien cognition

Recovering a distant geography from within the self, from the earliest days of life

Birth semantics, of the chora after Kristeva, the experience of language as touch

Alien-ness as a lived personal and collective experience—every body is elated, related, proverbial–

Really hard to be with the paintings, who confront by hurling recognition-patterns from birth

Quanta reveal and prevent revelation–.a disturbing ground,  an uncomfortable assimilation

The titles of the paintings might be proximate translations from a minor literature

Place-names in a legend on the lower left-hand corner of your map

The naming of paintings is a poetics of relation at a periphery which turns out to be central

Possibly the name will give a hook, a handhold while you plunge

Line is moving and coursing, a cursor flashes at various thresholds

At the point-shifts of planes and masses, shedding incidents and micro-events like droplets off the wet dog

Line scrawls through the wet prints, hunting uptakes, tracks in dark waters the shimmering bioluminescent letters

Paintings’ images present mere patterned light from within ellipses….dot dash dot

An aphasia-ellipsis is an intimate and vast location, a very productive space in which to write a painting.

Agnes Martin, she says ‘rest’ is the most precious thing, while John Martin, Victorian, paints the apocalypse


In the middle, Matta, whose oozing shapes make forms of life, painting as explosion

Detonation ripping out at you, as you. The canvas-crevasse spills out scores

Architectonics deeply inscribe in the body of the support, reverse the sentence out of Kafka’s penal colony

The inscriptions flow out not as law but as antinomies in concert,

Lightness and heaviness play between support and mass

The ground is no more stable than the delicate structure of the muslin whose surface is as resonant as a drum

Silent but potentially sounding, storm of sounds might erupt at the touch–

Like Ligeti etudes as played by Jeremy Denk

Scherzi and coda whip and pulse to locate points in a level of life at its strangest and most engulfing.




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