Tuesday, November 01, 2005


The hiatus
Run all the time, I doInto women, aspiring artists, struggling artistsWho tell meI am just coming back to my artHad a couple of kidsCouldn’t sculpt,Couldn’t paint,Couldn’t singCouldn’t writeFor two, ten, twelve yearsNow I am free,I can go back to my creative life
I feel like screaming at themFool!
You never stopped being an artistAt this very momentEvery single being is creatingWhether they are making art or junk or even dangerous junkIs up to them!
Yesserie!With their spreadsheet, their clownfaceAnd their tool belt
Raising a child is like throwing a potGentle guidanceNot too much pressure, not too much freedom
And what a mediumTalk about truth to materialDon’t try to make a lawyer of your actor!
Ultimately the clay will decide What it will do and how it will actBut with a little help from you.
Is it so different, when you use your wordsYour clay, your watercolors?And lo!The most exquisite experienceAfter thirty years or so,You might be able to pinpoint the exact moodOf that moment of conception so long ago
You got to be the unrecognized artistThe collaborator on a projectThat now creates independently
No, you never were a frustrated artistHow you live your life is your masterpiece.