To know the artist of the painting above is a privilege for me. At one time in the year 2000, when we were talking about numbness, as artists usually do… he said very little. The next time I saw him, he just handed me this piece – a simple blue-black Hero ink on paper done in half an hour. I asked him if he had given it a title, he said he was still talking about numbness in his head when he painted it. Thus the spilled ink was his thoughts. I am now reading it everyday in Moscow. Every drop. I have persuaded him to keep on painting the way he has persuaded me to keep on writing. Let me know if I should reveal his real name in my next post, will ya?
Postlude:
You already know his brother.
Questa è Enida 