Originally published on March 8, 2007
52 O STREET ARTIST extraordinaire Stevens Jay Carter, pictured above, was here today to interview this ruffian for his newsletter. As usual, I was wordy. Emotional. Nervous. Relaxed. Characteristically trapped in oscillation between a strident confidence and that unflattering corrosive excitability I exhibit when shown the least amount of attention. It’s times like this when I feel that the caricaturing aloofness that certain historical artists have postured might serve me better, or suffice in certain awkward situations, ah, a touch of the Steppenwolf…
After all, I liken myself to an open wound, but nature, being its own cruel taskmaster, demands obedience even from its inquisitive slaves, as Jackson Pollack observed in his statement that he himself was nature, so you would pay huge odds on the bet that aloofness in my mouth would ever sustain itself.
My burden is the burden of connectivity. Scattered shards of reflective glass that were once cohesive members of a magnificent window pane are products of a disconnect. Torn asunder violently, clumps of dried blood and rotting flesh that once promoted a promising creature’s thoughtful passion stress our senses, again, absorbing the ultimate disconnect.
Augured by my driving need to connect, to gather, rather than to divide, even when a particular division may be in my own best interests, my own eager nature refuses to allow me to participate in a calculated aloofness beyond an initial shyness a new situation may temporarily impose.
Contrary impulses of course always inject themselves and inform this nature. Hence, the battle. The conflict. The anxiety. The curdling of the milk, and the long scream. But the interview seemed to go rather well, a success, despite any number of competing considerations.
As always, Mr. Carter was charming and professional. It should be interesting to see how he hammers the passionate if sometimes pedantic Gabriel Thy blather into presentable form.