They were lived with living I have not ordered them to educate the fingers carving out the heads and arms and legs of tiny wooden dolls performing vitally our lives respecting the boundaries or edges of the text, revising these bumps by cutting and restitching from outside, keeping new writing to a minimum and in this way, always seeking out the unacknowledged and accepting, from many sources, this collage strips, I thought I might copy and send to you something always provisional cut it, drown it out, mistreat it in any ways that seem appropriate this is actually a marker of extremist care, an indication, as it echoes, of the word “tentative” this propensity toward inconclusion, and always the provisional in art coming from an understanding that most good things are tentative, it’s about leaving things intentionally unfinished unresolved and open-ended “I have arranged things so that arguing a shift in focus toward the “unit of the book” we might reimagine them as “entries” revealing, but always in a “parallel” way a way of caring for these works a grasp for fragments death taking dictation a sadness paradoxically like joy caught in a hinge “As a box is to a kite. The inside of stumbling. The way to breath. The caricature on the blackboard.” It’s a hybrid sensation up the center of the hinge, the space behind the walls the heart of the artist vacating the enclosure of the work
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