January 4, 1986

1:34 pm

I should know enough not to try to stop smoking. I now have a cold and I'm smoking again.

T and I had a long chat this morning on a variety of subjects -- he brought up something about modernism (he didn't call it that): that artists (we were talking about Hockney) hit it "big" with something "new" then after a certain point we give them the benefit of the doubt and check in with them and see what they're doing, like they are old friends from whom we don't expect surprises. I said that's part of the modernist dilemma, that you have to "make it new" while still being part of the historical mainstream. That is also a very American point of view. We both seem to have this idea that art is more accepted in Europe (and perhaps it is) but we both know that it isn't accepted in the US.

Got off from Meridian at 8:00 last night so Matt, Jerry and I went to Liam's but didn't get too drunk. Left by midnight. They had Irish singers and we were trying to figure out if the song they were singing was an Irish version of "The Streets of Larado" -- it had the line "bang the drum slowly, play the fifes lowly." Matt knew it from the movie with DeNiro.

Jess hasn't shown up this morning. He has sores on his body, he scratches them in his sleep. He says he's not worried but I am. I told him to go to the doctor Monday. We're all afraid of what will happen to us. I've decided to take what comes but to work as hard as I possibly can to get things done. I think the cruelest turn that could happen would be if I discovered I had AIDS, that I would die in a year, maybe two, and that I would have to work at my job until I couldn't anymore then go somewhere to die. I would want more than anything to work full-out on my own work until the end. If that wouldn't be possible I'd have to end it right there.

I've decided to finish the one book, SANDPIT. Fill it up with images, work with the book as context. SANDPIT will be that place to hide things, dump them, get them out of the way. Like the sandpit by the house we lived in. Next a book using things from Indiana (called QUARRY?), then one using images from New York (called CONCRETE or CEMENT?). They will be "texts" to use in future paintings (that I may never do). After that (it should take me all year to do those three paintings) I can start all over again. Using your own history is a way to escape the trap of history, art direction constantly on the lookout for the new and exciting to co-opt.

Watching a countdown of the top ten videos last night I noticed how much Bruce Springsteen and Madonna have come to resemble each other. Not physically but effectively.

I should be working on AURA this afternoon. Put it off until tonight. I'm having a cold and I need to get a bottle of brandy to celebrate.