Category Archives: Dreaming on Paper

Painting Again

I hadn’t painted in months. This is what happens: I swear that I won’t paint again, that I’ve had it with brushes and paints, with color stains on my pants, my shirts, my carpet, my skin. I will give myself … Continue reading

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A Monumental Modesty: Morandi at the Met

For as long as I can remember I’ve been drawn to Morandi’s paintings of bottles and vases arranged with “fearful symmetry.” Maybe because the artist was Italian, like my parents, and named Giorgio, like my cousin in Genoa—or because his … Continue reading

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Mr. Fesh and the Meaning of Life

Yesterday afternoon I read at a Barnes & Noble book store in Danbury, Connecticut, a few miles from the town where I grew up and lived for eighteen years. A beautiful autumn day, sunny, breezy and cool (as the forecasters … Continue reading

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Okay, so That Was a Bit Harsh. . .

The other day I wrote to you, my students: I love you all BUT: I’m disappointed (and annoyed) at how few of you did the assigned reading. Some of you admitted honestly that you simply hadn’t done it; others claimed … Continue reading

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