Georgia

“She was never—and neither was anyone else, ever again—going to be an artist of any stature. The culture had become too transparent, every innovation documented, processed, replayed and tweaked in a stream of infinitesimal progressions, each version on display, every player in the game embedded in a furious feeding frenzy of production, reproduction and repurposing. The more people tried to individual themselves, the more difficult it became. No one’s ‘voice’ was particularly outstanding; the atom had devolved almost entirely into the wave. What all of this produced, above all, was trends. That’s not to say there weren’t still personalities in the art world—galleries needed name recognition, and high prices still brought spikes of interest—but the characters that circulated in the limelight were generated to dramatize certain vibes. It was the trends themselves that did the work, the artists like a revolving cast of actors in a soap.”
― Mariel Franklin

“Elders charm you with wit and wisdom, and the next thing you know, you’re evolving against your will just by knowing them. I wish young me could’ve been more like that. Hell, I still wish I could be more like that. But it’s an Elder’s trick because it takes a lifetime to learn.”
― Aaron John Curtis, Old School Indian

“Sure enough, a Poem eases its way out of the blackberry bush. I'm off my chair like a shot. Or what feels like a shot; maybe I'm a little out of shape. The Poem sees me coming and bolts. I give chase across the field, winded almost immediately, but the Poem doesn't count on my long arms. Just before It reaches the tree line, my hands land on Its shoulders. It's soft, slippery, but my touch has startled It into slowing. I get a better grip, drag It toward me, and wrestle It to the ground, feeling the excitement of Its beating heart.”
― Aaron John Curtis, Old School Indian

“I go to seek a Great Perhaps.”
― François Rabelais