Lining the Walls
Climbing the Fences
(4 Artists 4 Walls 4 Fences)
I was crying all the way to the bank the other day when I had this funny thought. I often have funny thoughts. They keep me from getting too serious, or going postal as the old saying goes, (or went, when there was such thing as a postal service).
The thought was this: I’m fascinated by lines, and by similes and metaphors, and if stepping over the line is going too far, if, by having the longest fuse you are the last to get riled up, if, drawing a line in the sand is a simple pleasure, or a desperate act, if laying it on the line is ruining a perfectly good drawing by covering it in paint, if ripping out the lining is abstract expressionism at its most desperate, if lining up for soup is a an act passively done, if getting in line is an act of submission, if getting out of line is done with clear intent, if hanging your washing on the line is a way of sharing your darkest thoughts, if learning your lines requires going to art school, if your lines are not the fun ones, if you are the damn narrator, if you write your own lines you are…baring your soul. That’s all I need to make me smile—the if.