The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

They Were an Item #45


Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner

3 comments :

jimkitt said...

I think I'll never understand Pollock's style of art. Where is the uniqueness or art in pouring and splattering buckets of paint on a canvas down on the floor.

The Woodpile Collective said...

If you paint and do a little reading it will make sense.

talonmicco said...

art is an expression of who we are and how we feel. who wants to see another bowl of oranges... if you want reproduction buy a camera.