Why I need the NYer
I was sick, shivering, my windpipe choked, that I woke up and with nothing to do, light still dimmed, peeked at the NYer lying on the desk, flipped it and started reading a random article, with a quarter open eye. Soon, my eyes opened, I brightened the room some more, I continued and finished reading the entire piece. It was on Mark Bradford. I discovered him a few years ago and blogged about him a couple of years ago. The piece is as sly as his work, his personality of living on "slippage" ("slipping is something I believe in, something I depend on"), his journey triggered by James Baldwin and juxtaposed with his work in the hair salon, the backdrop of the social tensions of the past few decades, and culminating with " "I never have artist's block," he said, as though the thought surprised him. "I work when I'm sick, happy, depressed, constipated, jet-lagged. I show up. If I can't work, I go to Home Depot."" Home Depot is where he gets his work supplies.