Saturday, March 21, 2015
"It doesn’t make sense to call ourselves ugly, because we don’t really see ourselves. We don’t watch ourselves sleeping in bed, curled up and silent with chests rising and falling with our own rhythm. We don’t see ourselves reading a book, eyes fluttering and glowing. You don’t see yourself looking at someone with love and care inside your heart. There’s no mirror in your way when you’re laughing and smiling and happiness is leaking out of you. You would know exactly how bright and beautiful you are if you saw yourself in the moments where you are truly yourself." (c)
Monday, March 16, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015
My 5 year MFA journey at San Jose State University is coming to an end and will culminate in my thesis show, which will take place at the Belcher Gallery (formerly Gallery 2) at SJSU on March 30 – April 2, 2015. I will be exhibiting the Inner Circle series.
Location: Belcher Gallery (Gallery 2), Art Building (first floor), SJSU Campus.
Address: 1 Washington Sq San Jose, CA 95112. Best parking is at the North Garage on the corner of S. 10th and E. San Fernando Streets. Entrance is on E. San Fernando Street. Permit can be purchased at a machine.
The opening reception is at 6:00pm on Monday, March 30th.
Monday 9:00 – 8:00
Wednesday, Thursday 9:00 – 6:00
Tuesday – by appointment only
Saturday, March 7, 2015
I wish I could live with you
In a small town,
Where eternal twilight
And eternal bells,
And in a small country inn – a delicate ringing
Of an old clock – droplets of time.
And sometimes, in the evening, from some attic –
And the flutist himself in the window.
And the big tulips on the windowsills.
And maybe you wouldn’t even love me…
Thursday, March 5, 2015
“Attention without feeling … is only a report.”
"Finally I said, Is that you? Is that you whistling? Yes, she
said. I used to whistle, a long time ago. Now I see I can
still whistle. And cadence after cadence she strolled
through the house, whistling.
I know her so well, I think. I thought. Elbow and an-
kle. Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too.
And the devotions. And for all that, do we even begin
to know each other? Who is this I’ve been living with
for thirty years?
This clear, dark, lovely whistler?"