On Nothing, From Nothing

In Musings On Confusions on December 25, 2010 at 4:36 pm

When I was young, I tried very hard. I wept every day in the studio because there was such a distance between what I wanted to do and what came out. Now I’m at peace, because of old age. It flows calmly now. I meditate for a long time. I work against ego. I think ego is an obnoxious bother. To a great extent I have lost all interest in this fiction, Hedda Sterne.

Hedda Sterne from Sarah Boxer’s The Last Irascible in The New York Review of Books

My nightmares and my sorrows stem from this demon which is ruining my peace, my completion, my work and my inspiration. It is ruining my voice. Oh, how i wish to kill this beast, to traverse these divisions and do so before my mind fails, my legs break, and my soul falters. Oh how I wish to produce even just one image that is unfettered and unstained.

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