Tuesday, June 19, 2018

The Purposes of Color

Today when drawing made me add and mix and cultivate
and infiltrate and undermine and unrepentingly remand
to thirsty textured stiff white paper – where I hunkered
down (just right behind the firing line) for hours today –
my whole armée of colored markers, pencils and the single
square-edged stick of azure chalk I’ve got to keep things
sometimes hazily and sometimes brazenly in situ – from
and into which they, on their oceanic own, fight messy wars
with one another to eke out a unity, a singularity, a whomp
at last I recognized the not-for-profit complicated business
I’m now in. I sort out on surfaces a grand arena in which
colors can assert their purposes. Takes an angry mob of them
to do this job. Is this a narrative that wants to tell itself I’m
letting tell itself? Not intended. Although by all means, if you
see one, have your way with it: lick it, kiss it, kick it, bend it.
While I am not too swift on human beings’ leanings, I guess
these colors could suggest the possibility of something we
might just as well (hell, given who is wielding them) call
“human meanings.” Whatever they may be. “Play with me!”
they cry. “Okay,” I’ve made it now my business to reply.

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