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« Painless? | Main | Leaving on a jet plane (or, perhaps, not) »

July 29, 2007

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Comments

perilla

Hee hee! Thank you!

(delurking briefly--love your blog, esp. your sense of humor)

Richard Heft

Bibliophiles shelve; bibliomaniacs pile.

See Eliot, T.S., "These fragments I have shored against my ruin," not "stacked against my ruin."

Mom

Your earliest ephemeral artwork using this medium was interactive in its materiality. At the age of 17-18 months, you repeatedly relocated your father's books from the bottom bookshelf to the floor and surrounded yourself with historical learning by sitting in the middle of the resulting cascading pile. Unlike your current artwork, which is static in its apparent chaos, your infantile production, possibly a self-portrait, invited the viewer and the artist to experience repetitive movement. Specifically, you opened and closed the books with loving care and I put them all back (over and over and over again.)

Never one to discourage artistic experimentation, I bought you a little bockcase where I placed all of your books. Every day you relocated all of them to the floor and sat in their midst "reading" every one in turn.

After a long artistic hiatus, you have now produced a work reminiscent of your earlier masterpiece, but in a mature and eerily intimidating form.

CCPhysicist

That was brilliant (in the American, not the British, sense)!

You have clearly recovered from the past school year and are ready to tilt at young windmills once again.

And Mom, well, that left me speechlessly grinning ear to ear.

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