In the lot by my work is a man who paints splatters, and sometimes through the door I can hear his voice and see his tanned hands as he tries to sell pictures to tourists. Lately he has had some success, due to claims that his own paintings were made by a four year old prodigy. And what a relationship to have to one's work.
Quite apart from that, indeed as far as may be, my dear Milwaukee brothers are deep in their art. It is found at http://www.wereanonym.us/
When we lived together I said I would sew them jackets like Wendy from Neverland, and they would wake me up at two in the morning to dance, and my room was covered in flowers, and one of them chopped off all my hair.
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