You cannot leave me, for we are each other, and where would we go? Come into my heart, where you always were, and I will take you with me.
—Jeff Foster, for you little prince.
I feel like walking.
Do you feel like coming?
I feel like talking cause
It’s been a long time.
- Soko, First Love Never Die
But the heart has many chambers, please recall. There are atria, vitria, valves and electrical wiring all leading through passages festooned with photographs, books, clippings from dreams and memories pinned and taped and annotated cryptically. It’s like the tower room of an ancient professor of humankind. Here an old pipe, there broken shoe, a stack of periodicals long out of print. Only she knows whose chew marks the pipe bears, what miles wore the holes in the shoesole, only she recognizes the echoes of names rippling through the fleshy walls.
- J.P. to P.L.
A la différence d’Andy Warhol, qui portraiturait les stars comme si c’étaient des amis, Alex Katz peint ses proches comme s’ils étaient célèbres.
Hommage à des vies inconnues.
Who is perfect?