Works on Paper > Letters To Shakespeare

Hello Shakespeare: Down The Hatch
Hello Shakespeare: Down The Hatch
oil on paper

Hello Shakespeare. I love this kid, deeply, who bit my shoulder- yanking my attention a little to the left, towards him. It was a purposeful, definitive gesture down down down hard…I mean it brought tears. How about forgiving a United States President for messing with your life…biting down on the collective shoulder of us, Americans…perpetuating wars and withholding information which might prevent the collapse of a barely viable system for health, prosperity and abundance? Using our money to pay for stupid ideas. Imagine that. Imagine having a huge family needing a gallon of water per day. But you don’t get to drink it. Instead you get dead. And now how about it, Titus, what did you get from killing Mutius, your own son. Well anyway, Shakespeare, you gave him a gaggle of sons, and then more I could if I choose. Sent them into the killing fields. The human condition is a stunning frolic of animal play. A recognition of how free we are to make up rules for Others to benefit us. (We all are One of Us, aren’t we?) I know he can’t help it, this President of Ours. A system kept in motion through deft fingers spinning intricacies with spaces to enter and no escape…no getting out…a web of doorways opening to disaster with your own children chopped up in games of greed and… whoops. Our broad hips will always wear the weight of a sister without a time proven diet to lighten the load. And our great great grandchildren will inherit splendid threadbare cloaks, engraved with the faces of the misbegotten, the well worn shoes of untidy street people – a few smiling scary looking politicians. It happens that we children are not all alike. Human, of course, but our differences show up in the cars we drive and the color of our drink. Turns out we don’t have the choices we thought possible or the tools to secure our freedoms. Best to be still your mind, forgive your forefathers and go about your artwork, your writing, your quaint idiosyncratic configuration of a Life and wrestle those annoying demons from inside a cappuccino.