The Memory Of What Is Not May

One's Mind And The Earth Are In A Constant State Of Erosion, Mental Rivers Wear Away Abstract Banks, Brain Waves Undermine Cliffs Of Thought, Ideas Decompose Into Stones Of Unknowing, And Conceptual Crystallizations Break Apart Into Deposits Of Gritty Reason.

Language Should Be An Ever Developing Procedure And Not An Isolated Occurrence.

There Is Something Abominable About Cameras, Because They Possess The Power To Invent Many Worlds. As An Artist Who Has Been Lost In This Wilderness Of Mechanical Reproduction For Many Years, I Do Not Know Which World To Start With. I Have Seen Fellow Artists Driven To The Point Of Frenzy By Photography.

Questions About Form Seem As Hopelessly Inadequate As Questions About Content.

The Museum Spreads Its Surfaces Everywhere, And Becomes An Untitled Collection Of Generalizations That Mobilize The Eye.