Thank you for this bumpy gravel road to nowhere, this pristine sidewalk graffiti of thumbprint and initial. I am
not the first to pass this way, not the only traveler on this road, not the only one to mistake the map for the territory – or was it the other way around?
I will not be the last haggard soul, or the final disembodied poet. I look east and see a forest of pens, west lies an ocean of paper. Between
the two there is only me and this bumpy gravel road to nowhere, this pristine sidewalk, graffiti, thumbprint and initial.
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throwing art into the void
- circles... all the way down
- This venue serves as both medium and laboratory, an attempt to examine the shape of nostalgia and experiment with the contours of memory.
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