Alphabetically, the words disintegration, discovery, and discipline all fall next to each other when they are chapters in a reference manual of artistic affirmations. I chose disintegration at random a few days ago when I found myself at an omni-juncture, a plateau in my life with many directions to choose from.

“Nothing is true and everything is permitted.” - William S. Burroughs

I had truly disintegrated over the past few weeks and I was willing to acknowledge and accept this assessment. In honoring Chance, like I Ching prescribes, a random page from a book nailed my exact position in reference to everything else. It was uncanny and pleasing, even as I sat there, reading on the toilet, having my morning void after meditation and tea before embarking off to work.

But, what I had been seeing as a rift, a ravine of emptiness between two plateaus, suddenly became a province of opportunity. Artistic opportunities with a sudden pragmatism for the current economy, two diametric processes of living in this skin, were now (in a moment of emptiness) cooperating sides of a magnet. Energy was mine as I connected the positive and the negative. Now, I could once again draw in from the universe what I so desired, simply by change my perspective on a present situation, and by shifting my use of a tool to attract instead of repel.

This morning, in preparation for writing this post, I picked up the manual of artistic affirmations I had consulted two days prior, to re-experience the revelation, and noticed as I flipped through to find the spot, that “Discipline” was the entry a full page before. To flip one page back into the alphabetical history of this book brought me to discipline. And discipline, a strong theme of my life interwoven into my process and psyche, is the cornerstone to a meditation practice… a practice I have been earnestly following for many years, and religiously yielding to in the past eight months.

And, in between these pages, on the left side of the gutter, was “Discovery”.

The discipline of an artist yields discovery. To take an image, and to reduce, reduce, reduce… to cajole oneself to do something again and again and again and again and again… to yield to an insanity of discovery that breeds revelation. It’s no wonder so many artists are crazy, the line almost requires the skill set, like a mortician immune to the aromas of preservative.

So, if morticians are charged with the preservation of dead life, a sudden race to embalm and retain the final facade of the recently passed, artists are faced with the dissection of the living. Periods of discovery lead to the meticulous revealing of substance, a piece by piece removal of the ideas and matter that compose our existence. A subsequent visual or conceptual translation/presentation of how we stay integrated into ourselves and our surroundings.

Throughout this, as a result of stress and confusion and the excess consumption brought on by a changing position of celestial spheres, a fog has remained in my mind. An emptiness, a silence, a temporary absolution from the peripheral noises life offers us. The fog is here today, inside and throughout The City, thick and moist and cleansing. Dust covered objects from the history of an antique store hold the memories and experiences of dead life past. A closet-like idea chamber exists within us all, waiting to be aired out and cleaned, inventory of our goods examined like butterflies arranged with straight pins.

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2008 Thanksgiving Dinner

One brined, unstuffed turkey, cooked according to methods prescribed by HH Thomas Keller.
Gratin Jurassien - Scalloped potatoes with heavy creme and Gruyere.
Roasted pork shank and Flageolet beans with roasted tomatoes.
Soup of Butternut Squash en papillote.
Green kale and mustard greens braised in vermouth and stock.
Salad of Butter lettuce, cold roasted beets, Sierra Nevada chevre, roasted Hazelnuts.

Hot apple pie with infused vodkas.