Painting furniture has not been a lucrative venture.
I get easily sidetracked from what I love to do most.
In the book Art & Fear it states that artists of our time are not shored up like in the days of the Renaissance when the church commissioned mass amounts of work from frescos to sculptures to plaza mosaics. The National Endowment wants cutting edge head trip art. Van Gogh had his brother, Christo has his Jeanne Claude. If I mass produced a popular widget I could get on with the business of painting. Just like in music a painter needs a front man. Work on their press packet, stylize their hair, make them appear unusual. Keep stockpiles of quality wines and fruit to instill an atmosphere of abundance and confidence. Intercept clients who want a discount. Tell people I'm utterly busy even if I'm sitting on my hands.
It's nearly time for the bars to close - a way of measuring time. It's interesting to think that just about everybody is lying down right now all across America. A suspended state that's over in the blink of an eye. The night is a commonality that's hardly ever talked about. Sleep is a zone of absolute faith in that you really have to trust that somebody is looking out for you while you check out for hours. I have a friend who sleeps in prison. He probably relishes his dreams - the views are infinitely more varied and colorful. If a person has no imagination he can still dream. Does a blind person still see sparks of color when the eyes are rubbed?
Goodnight all you sleeping peoples.
