ARCHIVE/
LIVRE DE CITATIONS
LABORARE EST ORARE
Work is Prayer
Painting is Prayer
Work is Prayer
Painting is Prayer
earth’s cry and
heaven’s whisper
blend in raindrops
on wet cypresses
between
*Erde und Himmel*
earth and heavens
we. are. becoming.
Cypresses
turning our observation, interest, attention, from the outside toward the inside can add a sentiment, a sense of wonder and surprise. art searches for order and significance and connects us with a state of awe. art can create a “privileged space of meaning.” a part in us which is rarely being attended is visited and being explored. a place of wonder, contemplation, awe. through art we keep alive questions about existence, and ponder the human condition. it can connect us to ourselves in a new and vivid way. connect us to the “Erde und Himmel”. connect to something vertical within us and in the world, something ethereal, poetic, sublime. connect to everything around us and to something above us. art can capture and transmit a sense of splendor, of the marvelous. we are united through our condition as humans and we become united by our vivid spark and a yearning, seldom heard but always vibrating in a subdued sound.
"Man, sometimes it takes you a
long time to sound like yourself.״
Miles Davis
Conjuring the formless
Studio praxis strives, again and again, to embody the formless with a tangible manifestation.
Art reverberates an echo of the formless.
Conjuring the formless
Studio praxis strives, again and again, to embody the formless with a tangible manifestation.
Art reverberates an echo of the formless.
The mystery of conjuring the formless .
In an effort to work in the studio, there is an impregnating feeling, that art in its purest form is conjuring the formless so as to give it a form
(in a painting, a play, a poem)
In an effort to work in the studio, there is an impregnating feeling, that art in its purest form is conjuring the formless so as to give it a form
(in a painting, a play, a poem)
Archeology of Memories
a subtle invocation can be heard in an empty space created within the studio. memories-sensations- feelings-yearnings are conjured up and blend miraculously with gestures-movement-canvas-breath-measures-proportions-color-oil-water-space-time. the unknown emerges to blend with the familiar. the painting created, attesting to the miracle, can invite an attentive viewer to cross a threshold, inhabit the space, and hear its murmur.
Deleuze , citing Malraux : « (l’œuvre d’art) C’est la seule chose qui résiste à la mort. »*
The work of art as an act of resistance. the work of art, then, as an affirmation of life. being eternal, the work of art is in the plane of an ephemeral yet eternal present moment.
within an eternal repetition, Natality is a break of the spell, an affirmation of life, by an act of renewal and commitment to life. a split in time that enters an eternal present moment.
* “{ the art work } is the only thing to resist death”
"A QUOTE IS AN OBJET TROUVE”
V. ENGELHARD , 2012
Cypresses
ברושים
מטפטפים מי גשם
מרווים בדמעותיהם את
אדמת
החיים והמתים
Raindripping Cypresses
gluing the living
and the dead
with tears.
Rainer Maria Rilke
"The artist is eternity which penetrates the days from above."
Becoming Cypresses
Fertile soil welcomes
Cypresses roots while
winds hover along.
Can you hear their
hissing sounds,
as vastness of now
sprawls in the grove.
Can you feel their
caresses, as branches
grow towards heaven
in hallowed swirl.
Come! Come! Join
the endless dance
היה לה כמו פנס פנימי רב עוצמה. היא הקרינה אור אדיר מסביבה שלא רק העצים את יופיה וכשרונה, אלא גם האיר באור נגוהות את החדר ואת עיני ולבבות הנמצאים בו
To those who no longer have a homeland, writing becomes home.
(Theodor W. Adorno)
and I’ll paraphrase Adorno:
To those who no longer have
a homeland, painting becomes
a home.
Cypresses shedding raindrops connect earth’s scream and heavens’ subtle murmur.
Can we transform the cry, transubstantiate the whisper.
Can we transform the cry, transubstantiate the whisper.
Cypresses tears connect
the dead and the living.
Laboratory of Color-
pondering on color
pondering on color
“Laboratoire de couleurs"
Paraphrasing WB term in his essay On Hashish:
“Laboratoire du Rouge",
Serie Feb/May 2021
MFA/ Lehman / CUNY
List of works
Oil and gesso on primed linen,
28” x 84” ,
Feb-May 2021.
No. 1- Red
No. 2- Blue
No. 3- White on White I
No. 4- White on White II
No. 5- White on White III
No. 6- White on Yellow
No. 7 Horus
No. 8 Princeton
On Colours
According to an old, esoteric jewish literature a color represents a spiritual root. Every color in nature is a representative of a different spiritual root, a source from which this colour descend, a d which he represents and symbolises. A colour permits us to come closer to the spiritual source of an individual and learn about its essence, qualities and attributes. Colour is a material manifestation, an embodiment and reflection of another reality, another realm.
A far away spiritual world, the world of Essence, is represented here in the material world.
A pondering action
I see the work as a document - hopefully, it is a vivid and vivified document. A tree of life crucified & reborn with every molecule filled with life breath’s. A process of registration of colours and their connection to the source, not as a mental exercise, but through an examination, a pondering action, and an experiment to grapple with an embodiment of colour through a vivid experience.
Red
"Laboratoire du Rouge".
Walter Benjamin term for a corner of the room where he had one of his Hashish experiences.
“Rot c'est comme un papillon qui va se poser sur chacune des nuances de la couleur rouge. “
Walter Benjamin, On Hashish, translation by author.
“ Rot (red in German), is like a butterfly that lands on each and every nuance of the red colour.”
Becoming Rot, let
scarlet imbue you.
For a moment,
be a butterfly,
your flapping wings
as thin as airy silk,
your gaze hover through
Labyrinthine alleys.
And let be penetrated
by every carmine tone,
permeated by every
crimson shade.
For an eternal moment
of flapping wings you
are Redness.
Blue
‘Memory is in the light blue thread ‘ says an old Jewish saying. The light blue thread, once distinguished by the eyes from a white thread, marks the first light of day, a special charged moment in the light/ dark daily circle. Blue is also the color seen furthest away. In hebrew, the “three letters Source“ of the term תכלת , light blue, means inclusion, final purpose, and containment.
There is another very old saying dating back to around 1800 or 2000 years ago :
“ light blue (תכלת ) is like grass, grass is like trees , trees are like the heavenly sky, sky is like glow, glow like rainbow and rainbow like a figure because they say: ‘the figure of the rainbow’.”
And r’ Meir said , (~ 200ad) : “what is the difference between light blue, Azure, and all other colors ? That light blue is like the sea, and the sea like the heavens, and heavens like the heavenly throne.
White
Something has to be emptied of everything so the white light can be poured and fill it. Every pore must empty itself so it becomes available to receive the white light. White is all the colors and none, and in this regard there is a complete letting go and a complete surrender. It seems, White has this quality to penetrate, transform and be transformed and then glow outward.
The story of the yellow tube ...
Amy Sillman, in her essay on color, talks about the different weight of different colours. Their corporeality, materiality, of “colour as object” and the fetishism related to its pursue.
“-an art store is a kind of fetish shop offering a chromatic luxury in aisles, like a supermarket but with an air of esoteric connoisseurship.
Early on i had already a fetish for colors and a fascination with art stores aisles and their sprawling, full of colours, shelves. Almost everyday after school I would sneak in, - I could rarely buy anything, and have already asked the owner and the salesman all the possible questions - to the small and only art store in my hometown main street, just in front the no. 10 bus, which took me from
primary school to my house. I can still vividly see myself in the semi dark store aisle, surrounded by the mysterious tubes that came from far lands and had magical names like Winsor&Newton, Talens, Holbein, Sennelier, Grumbach. these names became mantras. These names were the gates of heaven. They were names of fairy tales, and I wanted to be part of their colourful myth, be a part of a promised land, as if a lost paradise was to be found, just a yellow oil tube away. The yearning and fetish accompanies all my travels up to this day. But it was in one of those early visits, that the desire became so strong, I took a small tube of yellow oil color, put it in my coat and left the store without paying. still remember the reasoning which sprang as soon as I left the store threshold, realising that me taking the tube I desired without paying for it, means the owners lost something which is justly theirs. I saw it clearly, that my having the tube means the owners were harmed. I remember how this connection has stricken me. The next day, I returned and put the tube back on the shelf, but still for years to come, I couldn’t use a yellow color. Today, I made my first yellow painting.
Green
Green is going into the dark woods, where one is loosing oneself. A wandering in the lush dark and profound green, a letting go in the unknown and mysterious woods
when something is lost so that something can be found.
Then a seed can grow and be taken care for, caressed and handled with care. precious and ephemeral, elusive almost and unnoticeable, but this seed, if given space, grows to manifest. This rebirth, is the very light, soft, bright, smooth green.
In this regard, Green is a Labyrinth,
where one is being lost only so one can be re-found.
Series Work
2021 Feb/May
On notions of NOSTOS , Pachamama , Ángel , Exile , Return , Woman- Tree , a yearning for verticality, SachaHuarima, and questions like, can colours help in
our search for verticality.
This Feb/ May serie has of course a connection to what was planned for the semester yet it is not at all what was planned. It Is what came out and looking back it is something that was “cooking in” for a long time.
Now, in the middle of the series i start the yellow work. If is beautiful, I like it and hope i won’t ruin it, but if I do (ruin it) it is ok too, because as Prof T puts so beautifully ‘you have to learn to ruin some stuff to check limits‘.
‘And to ruin stuff gives you freedom’
and ‘we see the wonderful work of Matisse but not his failures’. Miro’s abstraction is concrete in the sense it transmits reality and transports to a realm of livelihood. So is Joan Mitchell work. And Cy Twombly’s. It is work I looked a lot at and it is something I myself would like to transmit myself through my work. In the “Being“ body of the work I want the observer to feel something, to feel “the thing“. To feel the Life within, to feel Alive. An innerscape, a landscape, a bodyscape. Nostos has many roads, but they all lead Home. One can take different trains for the voyage and find himself in the end at the same “PLAZA“ (square). Art as a Manifestation of an inner experience interest me. With Art I could share an experience, a healing experience, a sublime experience, and enhance the connection between us all, a connection which already exists, we being all a part of the MotherSoul, “La Pachamama“. Mother- Earth. WorldMother. in Quechua.
these works gets names like “la Pachamama”, “ChasaHarima” WomanTree in Aymara and Quechua, La Femme-Arbre, a woman tree or L’Ange-Arbre, the AngelTree. In French. Language, any language, be it verbal, visual, poetic, limits us while at the same time provides tools for the manifestation of a possible connection. When we arrive “home” to this common place of communion, arriving to our “inner plaza”, we re/cognise it as something known, as something visited before, as something we inhabited before, we return! We go back home! That’s why this series and all my series i can call NOSTOS, the return home in Greek. All my work is Nostos. It is the expat and exiled person navigating a boat home, while registering the yearning, while mapping the road. And as road signs are visited, they become registered and are being shared.
Black
Black, for me is special, it is nature, colourful, warm, intimate, a sort of well of knowledge, a space I can enter into, explore, go in and out of.
Para mi el negro es natural, colorido, calido, cercano. una suerte de fuente d sabiduría. a space I can enter into and out of, donde entro y salgo. Black, used by the Spanish conquistadores as a color of authority, obedience and submission.
A friend who did a long field work in two villages in the Andean Sierra, told me, that there black means awe, mystery and silence. Silence on the sense that the sacred is wordless. Death os perceived not as grievance and mourning but as a connection to the sacred, a connection to other worlds. Black as a floor representing doubt, mystery , curiosidad et imparcialidad in front of the unknown
מסמך דוקומנט
חי נושם. crucified & reborn
alive vivified vivid in every molecule filled with life breath’s
Registration of colours and their connection to The Source. not as a mental exercise, but through an examination, a pondering action, trying to grapple with a process of an embodiment of the idea
of Color as event and vivid experience
ROT
If only for a moment
Be a butterfly
Your flapping wings
As thin as airy silk
Your gaze hover
through vermillion
Labyrinthine alleys.
And let be penetrated
By every carmine tone,
Permeated by every
Crimson Shade. Let
Redness imbue you.
If only for a moment
Be a butterfly
Your flapping wings
As thin as airy silk
Your hovering gaze
Wanders vermillion
Labyrinthine alleys.
Art is a medium, it is a part of a search to reconnect in a more
to oneself, to others, to something higher and finer.
el hombre ha perdido el camino de regreso. lo busca y lo anhela, atravez de su búsqueda artística .
the reconnection with myself is my reconnection with something higher. Know thyself - and you’ll know ME. To form a commitment, to create a covenant. This spiritual connection is material,
it requires a praxis, a daily praxis, of my body, my feelings, my mind, soul, and a new relationship between hand, gesture, feelings, paper, linen, color ;!conscious connections. an arduous work, a precise agenda, daily rituals, so I can prepare and be emptied and be opened for something to descend. I make myself available for something to work through me. the trace, thus, is a mysterious medium to connect to ourselves, to others, and to the higher. The trace, the Mark, the stain, rise, maybe , from an inner space, an inner vibration, connected with a finer energy that comes from above. a sacred energy, I would say. We lost the road back home and Art can indicate marks on the trail. Art can be a road map. Art can sometimes become the Angel that will carry us back home. Even if only for an eternal moment.
THE VIEWR IS INVITED
TO TURN TOWARDS
AN INTERIOR SPACE.
Paraphrasing WB term in his essay On Hashish:
“Laboratoire du Rouge",
Serie Feb/May 2021
MFA/ Lehman / CUNY
List of works
Oil and gesso on primed linen,
28” x 84” ,
Feb-May 2021.
No. 1- Red
No. 2- Blue
No. 3- White on White I
No. 4- White on White II
No. 5- White on White III
No. 6- White on Yellow
No. 7 Horus
No. 8 Princeton
On Colours
According to an old, esoteric jewish literature a color represents a spiritual root. Every color in nature is a representative of a different spiritual root, a source from which this colour descend, a d which he represents and symbolises. A colour permits us to come closer to the spiritual source of an individual and learn about its essence, qualities and attributes. Colour is a material manifestation, an embodiment and reflection of another reality, another realm.
A far away spiritual world, the world of Essence, is represented here in the material world.
A pondering action
I see the work as a document - hopefully, it is a vivid and vivified document. A tree of life crucified & reborn with every molecule filled with life breath’s. A process of registration of colours and their connection to the source, not as a mental exercise, but through an examination, a pondering action, and an experiment to grapple with an embodiment of colour through a vivid experience.
Red
"Laboratoire du Rouge".
Walter Benjamin term for a corner of the room where he had one of his Hashish experiences.
“Rot c'est comme un papillon qui va se poser sur chacune des nuances de la couleur rouge. “
Walter Benjamin, On Hashish, translation by author.
“ Rot (red in German), is like a butterfly that lands on each and every nuance of the red colour.”
Becoming Rot, let
scarlet imbue you.
For a moment,
be a butterfly,
your flapping wings
as thin as airy silk,
your gaze hover through
Labyrinthine alleys.
And let be penetrated
by every carmine tone,
permeated by every
crimson shade.
For an eternal moment
of flapping wings you
are Redness.
Blue
‘Memory is in the light blue thread ‘ says an old Jewish saying. The light blue thread, once distinguished by the eyes from a white thread, marks the first light of day, a special charged moment in the light/ dark daily circle. Blue is also the color seen furthest away. In hebrew, the “three letters Source“ of the term תכלת , light blue, means inclusion, final purpose, and containment.
There is another very old saying dating back to around 1800 or 2000 years ago :
“ light blue (תכלת ) is like grass, grass is like trees , trees are like the heavenly sky, sky is like glow, glow like rainbow and rainbow like a figure because they say: ‘the figure of the rainbow’.”
And r’ Meir said , (~ 200ad) : “what is the difference between light blue, Azure, and all other colors ? That light blue is like the sea, and the sea like the heavens, and heavens like the heavenly throne.
White
Something has to be emptied of everything so the white light can be poured and fill it. Every pore must empty itself so it becomes available to receive the white light. White is all the colors and none, and in this regard there is a complete letting go and a complete surrender. It seems, White has this quality to penetrate, transform and be transformed and then glow outward.
The story of the yellow tube ...
Amy Sillman, in her essay on color, talks about the different weight of different colours. Their corporeality, materiality, of “colour as object” and the fetishism related to its pursue.
“-an art store is a kind of fetish shop offering a chromatic luxury in aisles, like a supermarket but with an air of esoteric connoisseurship.
Early on i had already a fetish for colors and a fascination with art stores aisles and their sprawling, full of colours, shelves. Almost everyday after school I would sneak in, - I could rarely buy anything, and have already asked the owner and the salesman all the possible questions - to the small and only art store in my hometown main street, just in front the no. 10 bus, which took me from
primary school to my house. I can still vividly see myself in the semi dark store aisle, surrounded by the mysterious tubes that came from far lands and had magical names like Winsor&Newton, Talens, Holbein, Sennelier, Grumbach. these names became mantras. These names were the gates of heaven. They were names of fairy tales, and I wanted to be part of their colourful myth, be a part of a promised land, as if a lost paradise was to be found, just a yellow oil tube away. The yearning and fetish accompanies all my travels up to this day. But it was in one of those early visits, that the desire became so strong, I took a small tube of yellow oil color, put it in my coat and left the store without paying. still remember the reasoning which sprang as soon as I left the store threshold, realising that me taking the tube I desired without paying for it, means the owners lost something which is justly theirs. I saw it clearly, that my having the tube means the owners were harmed. I remember how this connection has stricken me. The next day, I returned and put the tube back on the shelf, but still for years to come, I couldn’t use a yellow color. Today, I made my first yellow painting.
Green
Green is going into the dark woods, where one is loosing oneself. A wandering in the lush dark and profound green, a letting go in the unknown and mysterious woods
when something is lost so that something can be found.
Then a seed can grow and be taken care for, caressed and handled with care. precious and ephemeral, elusive almost and unnoticeable, but this seed, if given space, grows to manifest. This rebirth, is the very light, soft, bright, smooth green.
In this regard, Green is a Labyrinth,
where one is being lost only so one can be re-found.
Series Work
2021 Feb/May
On notions of NOSTOS , Pachamama , Ángel , Exile , Return , Woman- Tree , a yearning for verticality, SachaHuarima, and questions like, can colours help in
our search for verticality.
This Feb/ May serie has of course a connection to what was planned for the semester yet it is not at all what was planned. It Is what came out and looking back it is something that was “cooking in” for a long time.
Now, in the middle of the series i start the yellow work. If is beautiful, I like it and hope i won’t ruin it, but if I do (ruin it) it is ok too, because as Prof T puts so beautifully ‘you have to learn to ruin some stuff to check limits‘.
‘And to ruin stuff gives you freedom’
and ‘we see the wonderful work of Matisse but not his failures’. Miro’s abstraction is concrete in the sense it transmits reality and transports to a realm of livelihood. So is Joan Mitchell work. And Cy Twombly’s. It is work I looked a lot at and it is something I myself would like to transmit myself through my work. In the “Being“ body of the work I want the observer to feel something, to feel “the thing“. To feel the Life within, to feel Alive. An innerscape, a landscape, a bodyscape. Nostos has many roads, but they all lead Home. One can take different trains for the voyage and find himself in the end at the same “PLAZA“ (square). Art as a Manifestation of an inner experience interest me. With Art I could share an experience, a healing experience, a sublime experience, and enhance the connection between us all, a connection which already exists, we being all a part of the MotherSoul, “La Pachamama“. Mother- Earth. WorldMother. in Quechua.
these works gets names like “la Pachamama”, “ChasaHarima” WomanTree in Aymara and Quechua, La Femme-Arbre, a woman tree or L’Ange-Arbre, the AngelTree. In French. Language, any language, be it verbal, visual, poetic, limits us while at the same time provides tools for the manifestation of a possible connection. When we arrive “home” to this common place of communion, arriving to our “inner plaza”, we re/cognise it as something known, as something visited before, as something we inhabited before, we return! We go back home! That’s why this series and all my series i can call NOSTOS, the return home in Greek. All my work is Nostos. It is the expat and exiled person navigating a boat home, while registering the yearning, while mapping the road. And as road signs are visited, they become registered and are being shared.
Black
Black, for me is special, it is nature, colourful, warm, intimate, a sort of well of knowledge, a space I can enter into, explore, go in and out of.
Para mi el negro es natural, colorido, calido, cercano. una suerte de fuente d sabiduría. a space I can enter into and out of, donde entro y salgo. Black, used by the Spanish conquistadores as a color of authority, obedience and submission.
A friend who did a long field work in two villages in the Andean Sierra, told me, that there black means awe, mystery and silence. Silence on the sense that the sacred is wordless. Death os perceived not as grievance and mourning but as a connection to the sacred, a connection to other worlds. Black as a floor representing doubt, mystery , curiosidad et imparcialidad in front of the unknown
מסמך דוקומנט
חי נושם. crucified & reborn
alive vivified vivid in every molecule filled with life breath’s
Registration of colours and their connection to The Source. not as a mental exercise, but through an examination, a pondering action, trying to grapple with a process of an embodiment of the idea
of Color as event and vivid experience
ROT
If only for a moment
Be a butterfly
Your flapping wings
As thin as airy silk
Your gaze hover
through vermillion
Labyrinthine alleys.
And let be penetrated
By every carmine tone,
Permeated by every
Crimson Shade. Let
Redness imbue you.
If only for a moment
Be a butterfly
Your flapping wings
As thin as airy silk
Your hovering gaze
Wanders vermillion
Labyrinthine alleys.
Art is a medium, it is a part of a search to reconnect in a more
to oneself, to others, to something higher and finer.
el hombre ha perdido el camino de regreso. lo busca y lo anhela, atravez de su búsqueda artística .
the reconnection with myself is my reconnection with something higher. Know thyself - and you’ll know ME. To form a commitment, to create a covenant. This spiritual connection is material,
it requires a praxis, a daily praxis, of my body, my feelings, my mind, soul, and a new relationship between hand, gesture, feelings, paper, linen, color ;!conscious connections. an arduous work, a precise agenda, daily rituals, so I can prepare and be emptied and be opened for something to descend. I make myself available for something to work through me. the trace, thus, is a mysterious medium to connect to ourselves, to others, and to the higher. The trace, the Mark, the stain, rise, maybe , from an inner space, an inner vibration, connected with a finer energy that comes from above. a sacred energy, I would say. We lost the road back home and Art can indicate marks on the trail. Art can be a road map. Art can sometimes become the Angel that will carry us back home. Even if only for an eternal moment.
THE VIEWR IS INVITED
TO TURN TOWARDS
AN INTERIOR SPACE.
Jack Kerouac
"Remember above all things, Kid, that to write is not difficult, not painful, that it comes out of you with ease, that you can whip up a little tale in no time, that when you are sincere about it, that when you want to impress a truth, it is not difficult, not painful, but easy, graceful, full of smooth power, as if you were a writing machine with a store of literature that is boundless, enormous, endless, and rich. For it is true; this is so. Do not forget it in your gloomier moments. Make your stuff warm, drive it home...don't mind critics, don't mind the stuffy academic theses of scholars, they don't know what they're talking about, they're way off the track, they're cold; you're warm, you're red hot, you can write all day, you know what you know, remember that, Kid, and when you feel as if you cannot write, as if it is no use, as if life is no good, read this over and realize that you can do a lot of good in this world by turning out truths like these, by spreading warmth, by trying to preach living for life's sake, not the intellectual
way, but the warm way, the way of love, the way which says: Brothers, I greet you with open arms, I accept your frailties, I offer you my frailties, let us gather and run the gamut of rich human existence. Remember, Kid, the ease, the grace, the glory, the greatness of your art; remember it, never forget. Remember passion. Do not forget, do not forsake, do not forget. It is there, the order and the purpose; there is chaos, but not in you, not way down deep in your heart, no chaos, only ease, grace, beauty, love, greatness... Do not forget it, Kid, do not forget it; please, please Kid, do not forget yourself; save that, save that, preserve yourself; turn out those mean little old tales by the dozens, it is easy, it is grace...drive it home, sell truth, for it needs to be sold. Remember, Kid, what I say to you tonight; never forget it, read this over in your gloomier moments and never, never forget...never, never, never forget.…please, please, Kid please.
"Remember above all things, Kid, that to write is not difficult, not painful, that it comes out of you with ease, that you can whip up a little tale in no time, that when you are sincere about it, that when you want to impress a truth, it is not difficult, not painful, but easy, graceful, full of smooth power, as if you were a writing machine with a store of literature that is boundless, enormous, endless, and rich. For it is true; this is so. Do not forget it in your gloomier moments. Make your stuff warm, drive it home...don't mind critics, don't mind the stuffy academic theses of scholars, they don't know what they're talking about, they're way off the track, they're cold; you're warm, you're red hot, you can write all day, you know what you know, remember that, Kid, and when you feel as if you cannot write, as if it is no use, as if life is no good, read this over and realize that you can do a lot of good in this world by turning out truths like these, by spreading warmth, by trying to preach living for life's sake, not the intellectual
way, but the warm way, the way of love, the way which says: Brothers, I greet you with open arms, I accept your frailties, I offer you my frailties, let us gather and run the gamut of rich human existence. Remember, Kid, the ease, the grace, the glory, the greatness of your art; remember it, never forget. Remember passion. Do not forget, do not forsake, do not forget. It is there, the order and the purpose; there is chaos, but not in you, not way down deep in your heart, no chaos, only ease, grace, beauty, love, greatness... Do not forget it, Kid, do not forget it; please, please Kid, do not forget yourself; save that, save that, preserve yourself; turn out those mean little old tales by the dozens, it is easy, it is grace...drive it home, sell truth, for it needs to be sold. Remember, Kid, what I say to you tonight; never forget it, read this over in your gloomier moments and never, never forget...never, never, never forget.…please, please, Kid please.