Museum Meanderings


Paint
	wet and flowing like jazz,
	or a bath.
	Touches canvas thru
	magickal wand pallus extention
	of artists eyes to
	mind to hands to brushstrokes.
Flat blank void
becomes alive.
Transforms into
mystical appliance
of travel, 
of history,
of pure expression.

Time
	adding and ticking
	clicking and clocking
	eroding and mocking
	measurment of silent idea..
	silent idea of measurment...
	consuming overpowering
	greedy player
	narcotic notion
	addictive concept
	mental drug socialy enforced.

Space
	wide and vast like
	darkness but bright
	and as florescent
	as stage illumination.

Set this stage
Mark this page
Let inspiration wave
Fill this grave
With paint and time
 and space
And we will charge admission.

Welcome to our museum.
This is where your art
will come to die..
It's final destination.
"Over it's prime." 
It's lively adolescent life, 
of galleries and media, 
of attraction and 
the glory of commerse, done.
It's ride on 
the rollercoaster ride called
THE ART WORLD has ended.
(Please keep seated and 
your arms inside the coach
until it has come to a complete stop..)
Then wait for the predator 
called nostalgia.. the last visitor
before art's last breath.. 

and when Time says so..
paint breath of artist will rest
and we will take it out of context
and observe it in a sterile cage
called Museum.. 

"oh..excuse me.. please dont touch that.."


 -/\-  Newport Bch, CA   OCMA, 1-26-99   2:20pm