We must make language of all forms of art together.
What art produces is a different language—untranslatable.
But then why want to ask questions when looking at art?
Language happens to be how we know ourselves to exist.
Or how we know we are unknowable.
I am not sure if art, produces.
Is it lonely then? Art?
It’s both lonely, and a calling into the possibilities of shared.
Art can’t ever be done.
Then it must produce. It makes babies.
Between the persons and the art I’m saying is something other
made possible by that interaction between persons and art.
For so many reasons I wish I could have seen these works with you.
Yes, to me art is, relationships.
I think we’re saying something different this time.
Tell me.
Another way toward this is that art casts a spell. Not on no one.
And material or substance is produced inside of the interaction.
The engagement makes. Even if it is one solo soul staring upon and feeling.
Suddenly the artwork is not lonely. It’s a mother.
And when the artist is making?
I rarely think about that.
I know.
THE ARTIST.
But is the artwork lonely here?
No because it is uneasy in becoming. Maybe this unease approximates pain.