I was becoming the cold, emotionally crippled monster I always wanted to be, and I wasn’t so sure I liked it. But it was too late. The metamorphosis was already well under way.
Paintings are seldom guilty and often framed for crimes they did not commit. Some cover holes-holes in walls, holes in lives. Some make holes-in wallets, holes in hearts in negative space.
That becomes the revolution, to be idealistic enough that you think you can change the world, and what you find is you can’t change anything but yourself.
If you really feel hatred for someone, and kind of send it their way, then it’s out of your system and in their hands. I always think it’s therapeutic.
