I am not sure what I am supposed to do in this world other than make things with things. Seriously. I am on the verge of merging with the infinite every time I layer paint on an old piece of wood. What am I supposed to do in the real world? I am on the verge of setting my studio on fire—the lumber scraps would make good kindling. I think I belong in a time longer ago. Bauhaus, Merzbau, Nevelson. Is it vision or pipe dreams inspired by inspiration? I am on the verge of calling it smoke up the old owl’s horn. Somebody give me a drink. I am on the verge of the curve toward a big white truth. About to topple.
{This post is the 4th in a series of writings inspired by the titles of my most recent wood assemblages.}
ALYSON KHAN [blog] 