Every time I think I’m above it all, I find myself right back, flat-faced, molded, to the hard surface of the ground.
By “above it all,” I don’t mean in some condescending sort of way. I mean transcendent, like I’ve finally graduated, or matured somehow – where the little things no longer bother me. You’d think I’d have a real thick skin by now.
No such luck.
I don’t know why I’m writing this. It all started when I was telling someone about Tibor Jankay (1899-1994), an artist I love.
He has an amazing story about escaping a train to Auschwitz by chiseling a hole into the floor and sneaking out of the bottom of a boxcar. He was the only one to go. The others were too scared and possibly didn’t really believe their fate waiting for them at the camp. It was unbelievable after all.
When I say, “The wheels are a turnin,'” what the hell does that mean anyway? Is that just something to say?
No!
I’ve been taking it “easy” this weekend by not over working. I spent some time with my nieces yesterday, along with my brother, but we didn’t end up doing quite what be planned on doing since I got a flat tire.
I have been slowly putting light, transparent layers on the aleph painting between working on various Kickstarter rewards. I think this is where I left off last we spoke.
