Conduit + Photo

Conduit.

I'm staring down at my paintings and
letting them haunt me with the need
for continuity.

I wonder how long I can
self-obsess and claim humility at once

how long I can
fuck strangers and still stick a flag in 'naive'

I won't have an answer that's found
anywhere outside the canvas,
and that's what's keeping me away.
it's what's keeping me trading
1/3 sized replicas of moments
when i knew myself,
in the form of a sterile canvas
and a dirty art.

dropping down the drop cloth is the only way.
putting away the old, and walking up to
my first really blank canvas
(whatever that means);
letting the sight and sound
make itself known, and letting the conduit
be the only continuity.

-Larson

Mimosa + Photo

Mimosa

We are meeting for breakfast.
We are passive-agressiving at each other.

You: "It's great that you are still treating art
as a full time job, even after all these years."

you are my mother and this is the thirty-seventh time you've said that.

Me: "it keeps me busy, way busy. I just thank god
that I decided against having kids."

we let our forks make that squeaking sound on the plate... I know you hate it, and you know that I inherited that trait from you. We have our own mutually assured destruction that goes quite nicely with our own cold war.

You: "I talked to Jenny, that girl you used to date the other day.
Her fiancé's a doctor, you know. I told her you said hi."

Defcon one. There's only so much a man can take.

Me: "I made your mimosa with cheap champagne."

You grab the knife, but only to cut your omelet. For a moment, I saw some white knuckles. That means I win.

-Larson