T-minus 22 Days

22 days until my solo show opens at Gallery 138.

Talking to my friend tonight about the nature of New York City.
He asked me if I was scared. I said, “What?”

Then it struck me.

Yes, yes I guess I am.

.

I’ve wrestled with some sticky fucking beasts in the past.
Drug addiction, dad dead, grandma dead, divorce,  dead dog, losing a house, having no home, loneliness like the black hole at the bottom of the universe, fucked over by good friends, fucked over by acquaintances, fucking over good friends, fucking over strangers, pregnancy scares, fear of heights, fear of losing my mind, psychosis, delirium tremens, withdrawals, toxicity,  family members lying to me, insects crawling all over my body, crying for days on end, sobbing for the heartbreak of it all, liebeskummer,  ragnarok, the sky is falling, the whole bit, but this is a particular and special new fear that I haven’t ever experienced before,
the fear of showing in New York City.

A new born child, this is the first time,

What if it sucks?

Saw this piece in a church in Kassel, killed everything else at Documenta
and wasn’t even part of the show proper.
Isn’t that always how it goes?

.

Young lovers in St. Petersburg.