Wait until next year

Putting off what could be done tomorrow, today

Category: Uncategorized

The Silence

It would be easy, trite even, to call Don DeLillo’s latest book, The Silence, prescient and timely, however one wouldn’t be entirely wrong to do so. Nominally, the book covers a huge, world-changing event taking place one Superbowl Sunday in the near-future, where all power and connectivity is lost, apparently everywhere, across the planet. In a moment the world has changed, perhaps forever, in ways nobody yet knows.

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800

We authors, petty prodigies of a prodigious era, wish to commune with future generations; but we are ignorant, I think, of posterity’s dwelling place. We put down the wrong address.

FrançoisRené de Chateaubriand

My 800th post, twelve years in, on this blog. I probably could have spent my time better, either not writing them at all, or by writing more. I’m not sure which would have been worse.

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Empty Rooms

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A little while back, maybe weeks ago, maybe months (what is time anymore?), I began collecting images of empty rooms. Read the rest of this entry »

Truth as of a City

A man may be in as just possession of Truth as of a City, and yet be forced to surrender.

Religio Medici, Thomas Browne

Admiral Booth lived his last years in the area of London known as World’s End, an apt place for a man who had once rowed out onto the Thames in order to avoid having to declare that he resided in the city, and who now wished to end his days in obscurity. At the end he was nursed by his companion, Sophia, who all assumed was his wife, the Admiral swallowing down his last spoonfuls of milk and brandy. It was only some time after he died that the residents of World’s End found out that the old man who had shuffled around in a naval greatcoat was no admiral, that his name was not Booth.

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I have stayed inside lately, as I suppose we all have. It has felt best to just stay out of the way, and while I know this is the direction from government for most of us (and how unsettling it feels to type those words), I am not sure everyone feels this way. As I look out my window people are still milling about, buying their daily newspaper, tinkering with their car, pushing a child on a bike. And so beyond the official guidelines, and beyond my reservations around how quickly the world has fundamentally changed, it just feels right to be home. An exterior life already feels peculiar. I have always been happiest at home, I think. And obviously now, more than ever. It is the only thing that really makes sense. And I’m not even sure of that.

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Rien

Rien was the result of feeling accompanied by an uncomfortable presence, a jangly burden which I eventually unloaded in this picture. I think the way this happens is an experience common to most artists.

Victor Willing

I wasn’t familiar with the work of Victor Willing but enjoyed the exhibition of his work at Hastings Contemporary, however I was struck most by this quotation – the idea of a “jangly burden” certainly resonates, it feels right even if I can’t put my finger on why.

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