Those thick white layers of snow outside don’t matter so much, I’m inspired mainly by Northern Exposure.
This is a very informal sneak peek detail from a new painting. Taken with my cellphone camera, as usual.
It’s so hard to keep things simple.
What even is the meaning of anything?
So, dear followers. The small book I have been working on for the past 4 months, will be out of a printing house during this week, or if everything does not run smoothly, next week.
We Will Meet in the Tundra is a collection of drawings I’ve made during this and last year. The drawings are…
We Will Meet in the Tundra - a new book to be released together with Julie Huberman later this year. Just wait a little longer and you’ll get to know what & why.
Come home for supper when you’re done mowing the mountain.
You wore ballet flats, the kind that needs breaking-in. I remember offering my back, in case it became too painful, or too impossible to walk. You must have thought, How absurd!
I was doing the talking –am I not always? I pointed at things, funny-looking things. Pensive you said, This is how nature planned it. How could I disagree?
There was a pause and simultaneously we said, Orange! Who knows what it was about?
Your worry lines almost did not show and for once I did not imagine what it could be like.
And that was the day you stepped in an anthill.
She wore a gown to bed; satin finish, sequined shoulders, a knitted flash of turquoise around her neck. I’m ready, she said, to the lion in the wall.
Don’t tie a ribbon around me; I am not a gift.
He shook his head. Not a chance. I could tell she agreed. I left soon thereafter with too many thoughts to think.
I held traffic for a while and no one cared. They seemed to be saying, We aren’t going anywhere, too.
I was waiting for someone to say, Listen, this has to change, but all the noise went out of the window.
So, until maybe is a promise you can keep, I expect flowers.
The man held the baby like a plane while the woman fished for something in her beige faux leather bag. Her hand rummaged for a long time and came out empty.
You are spraying all-purpose cleaner inside your car. White stains appear on the felt headliner. Your dog ducks beneath the glove box. A golden Buddha hangs from the rearview mirror.
We are a fun bunch
Baby clothes shattered all over the bed. And that beard, I can tell it’s taking shape. Mints stuck inside my pocket.
I am transfixed by how far we’ve come.
This was me, making faces in the window. Did you see? All wrapped up I was, all worked up. But that was then. Now I see a hill, to which I hum, a little longer than I should maybe. But who’s keeping track?
We are a circus. We make things, we unmake things. It is all very professional
