There’s something there – something in the use of representational art works and artists in a genre virtually defined by the unrepresentable quality of its subjects – but where are we?
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it’s 2021; we’re locked in now, and it already feels like it’s been a full year since 1 January. Needless to say, this has been a lot to deal with, and I have been taking refuge, once again, in the written word.
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Okay, I knew I was going to do these on the Facebook page, but I haven’t done that, and I’m under a great deal of time pressure right now — I had to get a replacement phone yesterday, and in 12 days begin my first class intended to be a completely online class. So…yeah. Let’s jump in to the seventeen books I’ve read thus far this year.
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