Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The key is to know when it's finished.
Sign it and get it done with so you can
move on to the next and sign another.
The problem is not having any place
to be naked, a nude with a signature
on the right hand corner of yourself.
When it's done, it's done, it's over.
Walk on past it with a breezed sprint.
If you try to tease it
with more pigment or hue,
green will devour blue, and you,
the awkward recipient of a statuesque
accolade, made only from synthetic
cottonmouth praise, will remain
stuck inside a canvas you never
intended on painting.
When it's finished, it is finished,
a certain death slammed shut
like a coffin lid. Let it go.
Light seeps out between
hinges. Tomorrow, I will
submit
to the New Yorker.
Signed, me.

take me, i'm yours
you New Yorker have me
use me
do me in op ed, boxed set shine
til i'm new york city done

there is a painter named Victor Hayden who supposedly never signs his paintings. He does this, or doesn't do this, whichever way you want to look at it, for the sake of the composition.
I wonder if he signs the back.


(Victor Hayden was also known, for a period in 1969, as The Mascara Snake)

I've been meaning to subscribe to the New Yorker

enjoyed this piece...I love the ones that make me think

I tend to sign mine with something that resembles more a symbol thana signature.............