I think about organization and messages, here is this place, now, instead of words, instead of work.

Speak out! It tries to tell me. i will try but maybe Machine should line the path for me with Ho-Ho crumbles.  I think about how i have resigned myself to distance.  I am driving US 42 again and it is largely unchanged, i see the other roads, 393, and I know where they lead, too, past which hills and over which bridges.  It’s a revival.  and I’m hiding.  My mind is like a wide bowl of water, and in order to create intentionally, the water must be still.  And for that i need time for the sloshing to escape.

I’ll be looking into the work again. Tangerine, the system, the plan, what is the vision, it’s that kind of time, the work is amassed,  with the latest component being turn on the light, that is to say, reveal and feature the object, which has to be a position, it has to be considered, and it’s the final piece that it gives me what I was looking for in the only way that counts – the one I already had.  these can also be sculptures.  And I can utilize the floor.  And then I flashed on the Louise Nevelson cabinet I saw in Miami, what an object can be, as if I could know the limits of a thing, Machine shows me again.

When are they going to make the google croak guesser?  So I can see thumbnails of the frogs and toads and crickets and cicadas

And the position I have to take by myself,  guessing my way i was thinking of cabinets, puppet cabinets, and Dr Caligari’s, and sarcophaguses, and housings for microscopes, how to look in.  of the lenses in the windows, like the old black house sculptures that we now can look at

Or I could just look up at the gorgeous galvanized ceiling, the whole porch, and be here

It doesn’t ask for worlds, it asks for locations.