jour nuit
“There is,” claimed Picasso, “no abstract art. You must always start with something. Afterward you can remove all traces of reality. Ideas and emotions will in the end be prisoners…whatever they do, they can’t escape from the picture.”
So it goes. You start with something, remove something, and in the end trap something. It’s all here, in this flare of light in the middle of this square of flat black silk, dark as the moonless sea and just as alive. But if there are prisoners here, there must also be guards. Watchers. Scanning day and night for signs of escape, we too find ourselves ensnared.
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