This is a picture of how everyone has to deal with the world. I drew it years and years ago. There’s love, which we want to entangle and entwine us, and there’s the ugly mofo sumbitch world, which one of us has to keep the hell away until our arm gives out, after which point we tap out and the other takes over (if it's a good relationship). I never finished drawing it, but later I said to myself the unfinished quality speaks to me. Life itself is never finished. You can live to see your face superimposed over a Smuckers jar on the Today Show's geezer parade (I’m ready to go now, Brother!) but you can never honestly say “The End.” Plot threads will dangle, foreshadowing will have been forgotten about, maintaining continuity is a joke and you will never ever close the drawer on your inner question of ‘Whatever happened to…’
The title of the piece (where’s the Louvre?) is ‘Lovers’, simple as all get out, which is cool seeing as the piece is just fraught with symbolism. Fraught. Some would say this is just Yin and Yang getting it on. Keeping with a vague French theme, we poo poo them. These faceless avatars are the essential gods living within all of us.
And now, having touched ‘pon the essential ephemeral, I shut my computer down and head home. Au river.
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