Self Shadow, NYC, 1978/79
My life…. when I look at it, it can fit so neatly like others do on a timeline. A beginning, an end. Someday that all will fit, bits and pieces, neatly in box. Hopefully.
Who will remember me as I do they? If all I ever do is having had a son, who can live life to his potential and fullness, who will remember me, I will be satisfied.
As I grow older, the needs I have for myself seem so small. Yeah, I want to leave a legacy of my art, my music, my life. My dreams don’t die. The road to them seems to be out way past the horizon. Lately they seem to look like faded mist.
In this damn art business, I’ve made quite a few friends that I cherish. Some have been elevated. Some still find we have attached strings that seemingly stretch forever. Other have severed those strings. No need to be reminded of who they are and where they came from. I miss them.
I am still here.