2 February 1996,
Terre Haute

On Retiring
and
A Final Exhibition

The following were the "Artist's Remarks" verbally presented prior to the opening reception of my last exhibition, a dual exhibition. The collegue who preceded me spoke, ad naseum for nearly an hour! Thank God, mine lasted but ten minutes!

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Dies irae, Dies illa,

Gloria artis

Requiem in Pace

Remembrances of things past and yet to come.

Explications:

elegy: a poem of lament and praise for the dead --

V.W.

Virginia Wolf --
so much for the suite.

I tend to work in suites.

My work is unabashedly paphian.

J’aime le vit.

Confutatis maledictis--

J’adore le con.

Recodardae--

J’honore la cul.

Tuba mirum--

Fottiamci anima mia,
Fottiamci presto.

Ingemisco, tamquam reus--

Mettimi un ditto in cul,
caro vecchione,
Dammi la lingua.

What is before you is obvious to the mind’s eye --
let it see the joy of man’s desiring.

Un si solenne cazzo,
Una bella potta.

I don’t want to clarify.

What you see--
what you hear is what you get.

All animals are aware.

All animals associate.

Only man creates for the soul.

Creativity --

it cannot be taught,
but,
it can be honed.

It can be fostered,
and,
likewise,
it can be stifled.

It is without causes,
but,
with cause.

Causes are for politicians--
little minds in great trousers --
who are the jock-straps of civilization.

As intuition,
creativity is passive,
noetic,
transient and
ineffable.

Things created must not only appeal to the senses,
but,
more importantly,
to the mind.

Creativity is the mother--
Nay!
the demanding mistress of all associations.

To deal with things creative,
narrow,
focused intelligence is not demanded,
but,
eternal questioning is absolutely required.

The art of art.

Art is elitist.
It demands intelligence,
It demands mental gymnastics of both the left and right --

It demands climbing the south face of the Eiger,
maybe even K-2.

For those who aim for the masses,
they wallow in swill--
putrefied fodder of culture vultures.

The artist--

öbermensche

Combinations,
contrasts,
dichotomies,
associations of the past and the present.

They are the stuff of which dreams are made,
sweet confusions,
confectioned salt.

Icy, limpid crystals,
and,
warm honey.

Diamond lingas

(rex tremendae majestatis),
and,
ruby yonis
(libera me de morte aeterna).

Sweet champagne and beluga.

Elizabeth the First
(semper virgo,
semper meretrix),
and,
Antinous,
fountainhead of Hadrian.

The Lord Buddha,
and,
the Lord Christ,
frater familias.

Catherine, Imperitrix tremenda,
and,
Alexander of the Sun.

Feodor of the soul,
and,
Greta gisante.

Richard Coeur de Lion,
loins of cream,
and,
Tsu-Tse Pregnant Regnant.

Jean-Nicholas,
and,
Paul,
leaves of grass,
twins of Walt.

Elizabeth T (Turandot),
who’s afraid of her?

Living, breathing silver,
and
cold, dead gold.

Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna--

Lux aeterna luceat eis--

Ohm mane padme Um.

Lauds--

Damn exclusivity,
Ave inclusivity.

Damn separateness,
Ave conjugality.

Damn specialization,
Ave eclecticism.

Words and other things,

Words are the second greatest visual art.

They should be heard,
but,
also,
they must be seen -- in the mind’s eye.

Words are to be played with in love,
but,
out of love,
they must be worked with in earnest,
and,
with diligence.

Art should never be one’s life,
rather,
life should be one’s art.

The joy of life is in its diversity,

its confusion,

its obfuscations,

its delicious pain,
and,
le petit morte of the great and the small.

Life can never be confuted.
Mistakes in life are its fuel.
Mistakes are made in the bedroom,
never in the kitchen.

This is the last--

Requiem.

This is the end--

Requiem aeternam

There ain’t no more!

Requiem aeternam,
Tremens factus sum ego
Deus de morte.

Memoirs of things past,

and,

Memoirs of things yet to come--

Ohm mane padme Um.

Amin

Quod dixi,

dixi. . .

DIXI.