Monday, April 20, 2009


J G Ballard died this past weekend. He was one of my favorite writers. One of those rare people who could articulate with words what I struggle to do with paint. I have many apertures in my head that open to places he invented. There are crystalline psychologies, rampant weathers, dire contemplations of ingestion, and the pure, hard stare into the landscape of this Kali Yuga.

1 comment:

american fez said...

Gone to that concrete island in the sky.