My studio:
Half red old novels
Theology books well thumbed
Old journals
A bible I was given in France
From a man trying to kill himself
A long two headed broom from my mentor
Knives and hats from my grandfather
Photo after photo
Old cameras everywhere
Undeveloped film in each corner
Lights people gave me for my art
Super 8 film in un-matching boxes
Shoeboxes of paint of every color
My endless collection of all types of pens
Illuminated gospels
Hasidic literature
All the major sacred books
In many translations….
Botanical illustrations….
Foreign language books
Every type of speaker
And recording devices all the way back to the 70’s/
I will record life as I live it I wrote on my wall as a kid
Along with my first long word-beautiful.
I was hoping even back then
That life really is beautiful, as it claims to be.
Books on writing about writing
Maps, maps, maps
All the cities I loved and lived inside of.
Pictures of old friends on every wall
Pictures of new ones on my computer
Things to print make and make beer.
Equipment of all sorts.
A rare copy of the baghgavad Gita
Which highlights Arjuna’s questions like a red letter addition
Of the New Testament highlight’s Jesus’.
Signed copies of all my favorite poets
Who I got to meet.
Robert Bly, Philip Levine, Galway Kennel and the gang.
Even the late great clown and king—Allen Ginsberg!
Who I met during my art school days.
And was the only man I ever met who actually carried a hurdy-gurdy!
What a howl that man had. He could bellow and get a crowd going!
Photos of my mom and my wife—all over.
Birds, fish, and musical notes on every painting.
The daily music of the spheres, I suppose.
My endless drawings of a man on a tightrope
Walking between worlds….that and my red chicken man
Whose skin is disco ball-my only self portraits to date.
All the sketches of Paul Klee and Kandinsky.
And most of Chagall.
Many books by my professor friend on Van Gogh and God.
Every translation of every bible ever.
So many things I used to know.
Photos of all my cars through the years—
69 Kharman Ghio, 68 Saab, that 60’s Volvo I out bided
A politician for.
My dad’s books in many languages! Love translates!
Recordings of my mom singing operatic worship from Jerusalem
And in many spaces over the years.
Pictures of my grandfather and I just sitting on some sofa, being.
No photos of Jesus, but Jesus tacit in it all.
God became His Own art! That’s what my studio
Says.