I don't want to create tonight. I am sitting in the studio, scissors staring at me, this piece staring at me. I started it in July. It's January.
There are ways to get around this wall. I know it. Bust through, perhaps.
There is an artist named Tom Friedman, who is very conceptual. Sometimes he is a smartypants. Or he was a few years ago, anyway. I saw a show back in 2001 at the New Museum of Contemporary Art in New York that was full of his works that were hilarious and infuriating at the same time. One was a piece of artists paper, framed and mounted to the wall. It was blank. The title and medium: 1000 Hours of Staring. Yep. I know how it feels, buddy.
