Friday, November 9, 2007
I have a strange little box
inherited from my parents
who inherited it from my grandma
who inherited it from her brother.
It is a small silver box
with an image of a man
under a Bodhi tree.
I don't think he is the Buddha
because his legs are dangling
over a rock, and he's reading a note,
the contents of which is probably lost forever.
Inside the box is a wisp of air,
filled with my great uncle's pipe smoke,
and laden with the secrets of his far eastern travels
where he acquired such a treasure.
Making art is like making life. My teacher told us, “take care of your life and your art will take care of itself.” Alois Senefelder, the ...