Sunday 25 January 2009


eggtooth visited a friend's studio today. in between old familiar streets back through the old neighborhood, i buzzed along damn young aged and careful. slippery streets on a basically pretty day of freedom in the united states, free to visit friends and fellow artists. i deliberately fishtail and belch. remembering this morning at thumbs up diner. im enjoying pancakes carmelized with a twinge of apple juice. slightly crispy sugary so yummy . Kodac Harrison sits down next to me. ive never formally met the man, but no, i have.months ago. briefly over the introduction and noise in my own head, pandra williams sculpture hand slams his grip into mine and i dashed away. now there he sits, reading his paper. a regular that never speaks,they say. my friend's art on the walls around me...i will go visit him today, between rainy showers. it will be refreshing. just a sip for the air and the grass. i had a polite conversation with mr. harrison and let him enjoy his breakfast. enjoyed the chance encounter. he's the slam master and does it all the time now at java monkey in decatur. truckin on down and around looking for some stolen moments, wondering do i go out ponce turn that trudging right down peachtree pick up mterials and haul those resin crytals back..i didnt sleep last night. hyper sensitive to caffiene now i guess, ive purified myself with water. slippery streets slipped me away from work today, my thoughts drift to a home up in roswell i should visit, but not today. a warm honest presence that playfully tweaks my perception of reality for moments.pulls on my curiosity, caring and creativity with gentle perfect movements. inspires me and activates other parts of my brain.
but i visited another friend's studio today. a friendly guy about thirty,havent seen him in 4 years,he does these sculpture/ paintings that are entirely without..i don't know. attitude? a simple charm that makes me realize they know themselves. i, in all my thoughts, realize not to question them too beyond,not to rub my chin and artfully contemplate them. how stuffy. the place and time is right for them. here and now, they work . im reminded of a younger happier state of mind.he shows me commissioned projects he did for pleasure and a little extra cash.i hear others moaning of their labored craft and feel their dead weight nag.moaning so boastfully,supposdly unappreciated trying to churn an aura for nobody.but this guy here and now, his honesty, his work doesn't try to do what my mind starts to want to ask of it.i laugh inside, i realize im relaxed and enjoy this. it's nice. they are pleasing and hand crafted. i wonder if ive strayed my ideals into the wrong walk of life...i realize he does this stuff, this nice stuff, for love.
i wonder at the pain of other's honesty. their need for their idea. their quest or their natural inclination.i dont know. is it for more, for who? culture...mankind?. this friend's studio is the exact opposite of the inside of my too tried and tired skull, clawing around inside me looking for a reason to be uncomfortable.technique is enough for a lifetime. the idea of suffering, so self important. the work is still what it is. suffering is for yrself, i guess you should realize it renders it what it is. might as well be looking in a mirror.what's it for? i enjoy it. why can't it just be that?

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