“The most important thing for everyone in Gringolandia is to have ambition and become ‘somebody,’ and frankly, I don’t have the least ambition to become anybody.” — Frida Kahlo
in the end, we are all just holy ghosts
lone, holy, haunted ghosts who sometimes want to feel, to be seen or felt by others who occupy our realms
if anyone were to have thoughts or draw conclusions about this particular ghost, about my collection of words, photos, ephemera, art, altars, or the microcosmic worlds i’ve built — now, or when i’m dead
— in the end, and at the beginning, it is and was, for me to better understand
my Self for myself by my self
as well, to understand my relationship to others, to the world, to the Earth – the pain and beauty of it all – and my relationship to my creativity – the conception, process and act of creating, and to existence itSelf
/ no one else is essential to interact with, interpret, interrogate or validate any of it, ever – yet they are welcomed to do so/
the imperative in my work and my art is not to be known or understood by another — even though, even when, that exquisitely rare experience occurs – it may conjure deep feelings of true homecoming or true love
further, being seen or felt – as creative, evocative, provocative, nouveau, derivative, debased or talentless – by someone is wholly different than being truly known and understood by another human being
and although communion, consummation, and collaboration in experiencing, creating, or releasing art can be gratifying, challenging, inspiring and evolutionary,
i must always remember:
all my collaborators are ghosts; i am my own, lone, Earthly muse; i Am my holy and whole audience of one
everyone else is collateral advantage
“in the end, you will find [only] yourself at the beginning”
“This used to be my playground” and our proxy for church on spring, summer and fall sabbaths
These were the halcyon days.
Load up the International Harvester TravelAll with wooden doors and quarter panels – it has two gas tanks, you know Bought it used, but pristine on payments – from the showroom on Logan Boulevard and Elston Avenue with zero credit history and all the usury
Follow me, and I will make you fishers of fish
He will bait your hook on the bamboo pole he bought you Later, you will insist on the “Pocket Fisherman” – as seen on TV
I set out natural stone salt-licks year-round for deer in two spots on the perimeter of the land I occupy [I’ve witnessed birds, and I suspect other wildlife enjoy/require them too].
I buy bags of apples on sale and try to set out 5 lbs a couple evenings per week for the deer during winter; I cut up a few for possums and rabbits nightly.
I feel like the salt lick, the small sweet apples and fruit scraps are my insignificant attempt at respect, alms, honoring and reparations for all we have destroyed and to the survivors who endure and remain in the middle of a cold winter. This is agro country, and not a speck of corn or fruit is left behind for wild animals in the barren cornfields and orchards that were once forests filled with acorns, walnuts, pine nuts, pawpaws and twigs – and prairies filled with grasses, herbs and wildflowers.