stillness of the 10th, 2013
driving home, this
September evening
the greyed trees paler
cushioned in white
cloud or fog
looking ahead
the hills fall and echo
and fade one after another
grey upon grey until
they touch
the colorless sky.
stillness of the 10th, 2013
driving home, this
September evening
the greyed trees paler
cushioned in white
cloud or fog
looking ahead
the hills fall and echo
and fade one after another
grey upon grey until
they touch
the colorless sky.
Art isn’t explanation. Art is what an artist does, not what an artist explains. (Or so it seems to me, which is why I have a problem with the kind of modern museum art that involves reading what the artist says about a work in order to find out why one should look at it or “how to experience” it.) From: No Time to Spare