jamie

I am for an art that will never ever have anything to do with hot pink. I am for an art that realizes hot pink is the devil. And hummers too. I am for an art that understands that hummers are the devil. They are not bad ass. I am for an art that lets me change my mind all the time. I am for an art that knows when it’s feet smell. I am for an art that plays in puddles too much I am for an art that knows to dry out it’s shoes after. Ok, maybe I am for an art that plays in puddles barefoot. I am for an art that comes out better after you’ve dropped it face down. I am for an art that understands why my nose starts running when I get tipsy. I am for an art that shows itself in that tissue I just used. I am for an art in the way my best friend blows her nose so loud it honks, every morning. I am for the art of staying in bed all day. I am for the art of the eyebrow I am for an art in the “what ifs” I am for an art of self-torture I am for an art in my big toe sticking out of the hole in my mismatched sock I am for an art of still wearing those socks. I am for an art of coffee…mmmm…coffee. I am for an art of the names Old Holland gives to it’s paints. Especially “shivininegan” I am for an art that understands that if Duchamp can find inspiration in the john, so can I. ~read Claes Oldenburg's "I Am For An Art" and it makes sense.