navel gazing on a sunday eve.

Have you ever seen that video of Jackson Pollock working? The one that alternates between shots of Jackson dancing around a giant canvas wearing these giant boots and slinging paint like an extra in a Kurosawa film, and shots of him staring all squinty-eyed and cigarrette dangling out of his cool slash of a mouth? I don’t even like Jackson Pollock that much and what I take away from that short, grainy clip is ‘Wow. Jackson Pollock is a total bad ass.’

Come August, when I too have reached new apogees of fame and my own process is documented, I wonder-

Will people watch the way I work-  that is, sewing in unwashed sweatpants while watching crap television on my computer and  singing the same Joanie Mitchell song on repeat while slowly painting things too small to be filmed- and feel the same sense of wonder?

totally the same.

Probably.

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