Today I went to visit Miro, Dali, Picasso, Van Gogh, Chirico, Derain, Matisse, all of them moderns, at the new modern art museum. The rooms were packed because Friday it is free to get into the museum. Duchamp's Wheel was there too. I only had time to explore the 5th floor. It is amazing to observe all that come. All of us have an interest in the "art" but it seems no one has an interest in "each other", so it seems when I stare at the bodies waiting in the lines to get in the museum. Cold we are. Cold I am. Afraid. Intimidated. The Art is like walking on a tight-rope ... "Watch what you Say" ... "Watch what you create" or one will fall into the abyss of art agony. When such a time comes, however, we know artists of the past have disconnected all ties within the "art realm" and went out to find their new self, their new art, and to return with the new art inside their shoe, hidden inside the sock, yes it is there, and hope is alive. Such times life can allow. Sometimes I think such a thing will happen to me. But I do not think of this because my life is not and cannot be just my life, for it is the life of others that we can only find life in. Sometimes I think I will become homeless because the art will not carry me, will not give me "success", but then I think if that is the way it should end up, then I must accept it if it is to be true of my life and then the motivation in me will only have to become stronger to keep the art alive. Not practical? NOt truth? My last resort will be rocks on sidewalk slab, and I will take it if it comes to that. But my family shows me so much Love. They assure me not to worry about such things. But being an artist sometimes it is hard to not think of such things. I want the art to serve Humanity. This is the only way I know how to give away. Isn't this what life is? Does Art give away? Art gives weight to the viewer and to the artist, it sometimes feels like a naked body warming up a blue body that is also naked and near death, but does not die. You know I saw something in Van Gogh's "Starry Night" tonight, you know what it was ... it was at the edges. The canvas was seen. The old canvas at the edges, not covered with paint, just bare. I almost felt like that was an opening into the painting itself, a backdoor, and I wanted to enter it, hide behind the blue and green paint, everyone in the museum mobbing towards it.

My paintings have been scarce as of late, but I have been drawing endlessly. I have been low on paint and canvas and the garbage as of late has not provided me with any nice wood boards ...