**** An Open Letter to All and Sundry What everyone would like to do, and the artist more than anyone, I suppose, is to make a living by doing what he enjoys doing. An artist who is non-commercial has about as much chance for survival as a sewer rat. If he remains faithful to his art, he compromises in life, by begging and borrowing, by marrying rich or doing some stultifying work which will bring him a pittance. Unless one is expert at it, there is a limit to what can borrow and beg. To marry rich is an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime, if it comes at all. The usual lot is to find some kind of work which will just keep body and soul together and at the same time give one a few hours a week needed to practice one’s art. Lately it has occurred to me that I might earn the meager sum needed to keep afloat by selling the watercolors, which I make in my moments of recreation. I do not pretend to be a painter; I do not think my work has any value as art. But I like to paint and I like to think that whatever an artist does my way of avocation is interesting and perhaps revelatory. I know too that if upon my death, I should any fame as a writer these watercolors, which I have been turning out for my own amusement and the amusement of my friends will have real value. Together with notebooks and diaries they complete the picture of a writer’s personality. Actuated by real need, which is continuous and always quasi-desperate, I have decided to anticipate the moment of death and offer these post-mortem effects now. I am putting no price on these paintings, if I may call them such. I offer them with the understanding that the buyer may name his own price. (If later I find a way to print my own books I shall do the same with them.) The primary thing is this, that whatever money is given me constitutes a mortgage on the future, my future as a writer. Making watercolors is so much play for me; it gives me a release. In other words, it keeps me happy, enthusiastic and alive, and to be happy, enthusiastic and alive is a prerequisite for the artist. In order to give my prospective benefactor some idea of my interest in watercolors, I append here with a chapter from Black Spring called “The Angel Is My Watermark”. It will be seen from this that the mania took hold of me some fifteen years or so ago. Today it is stronger than ever. It is possible that before I die I shall become what is called a painter, as well as a writer. Why not? Dr. Marion Souchon of New Orleans only began to paint at the age of sixty, after performing thousands of successful operations as a surgeon. Had I been able to afford it I would have included in this brochure a few color reproductions. As it is I can only give a few black and whites. Should anyone be interested in the phase of my activity, perhaps he will help me later in getting out a book of facsimiles. Every form of reproduction is prohibitively costly. One has to be a millionaire to gratify his whims when it comes to reproducing words or picture sin anything less than carload lots. A word about the selection of these watercolors. Today I have in my possession only the product of the last few weeks. Everything prior to this period I have given away to friends at some time or other. I am left with only a few choice “masterpieces,” so to speak. No matter. I always work from scratch--- and with zest. No use telling me what you would like to have: I can offer you only what I have on hand at the moment. You will have to take a chance on me. Nor can I, for the practical reasons, send you a group of which to make a selection. If you ask for one, I will send one, the one I think would please you. If you ask for three, I will send three. If you can’t stand the sight of them on your walls you can always give them away as gifts, or use them for toilet paper. Incidentally, the toilet is an excellent place to hang watercolors. I can’t tell you what pleasure I get “when I go to the bathroom,” as we say in America, to see one of my masterpieces staring me in the face. Let me say in passing that I have noticed, in homes of great collectors and connoisseurs of art, this same prepossession for the toilet. Only lately, while making pipi chez Walter Arensberg, the most interesting collector of modern art in America, I have discovered some very unusual, very inspiring art products. So don’t think, when you relegate one of my masterpieces to the water closet, that you are doing me an injury. On the contrary, I shall consider it a mark of esteem. As to my subjects, and I suppose a word or two on this score would not be in apropos…well, I am at home in all realms. I do not paint from life: I paint from the head and what’s inside it. Now and then, of course, I have done a still life or a portrait or a landscape by looking at it, trying to reproduce it. The results are usually quite harrowing. Nobody, not even myself, can ever detect what is called “a resemblance.” Fortunately, resemblances are no longer in vogue. I have a limited stock of furniture which constitutes the materiel of my pictures. My pictorial vocabulary is limited to one tree, one house, one flower, one sky, one face; with these I render the infinite variety of trees, houses, flowers, skies and faces which exist in nature. You see, I know nothing about drawing. I couldn’t even copy a drawing until the 1926 or ’27. Then, by accident one day, I discovered that I was able to make a likeness of George Grosz, whose self-portrait I had found on the cover of one of his albums. From that day I took pleasure in using pencil and brush. On good days I can draw with a cleaver. I don’t go in for likenesses anymore; I am satisfied with reality. Everyone has his own reality in which, if one is not too cautious, timid, or frightened, one swims. This is the only reality there is. If you can get down on paper, in words, notes, or color, so much the better. The great artists don’t even bother to put in down on paper, they live with it silently, they become it. The two men I admire the most are John Marin and Paul Klee; I would give my right hand to be able to paint like either of them. Their work seems like pure magic to me. Unfortunately, for all my admiration of their work, the influence they have had on me seems nil. I am just about where I was in 1926 or ’27. I revolve in a Sargasso Sea of curiosity and delight. Everything I do looks good to me. It is always best I know how, and if that is far from perfection, it is not so terribly far from Paradise. I make my own heavens and my own hells, and I live them and extract all the juices. I could, as some suggest, go to an academy and learn a few things about the fundamentals of painting. But would I be any happier? Just as I am, good or bad, I enjoy everything I do with the brush. I have no need to prove that I am a painter, no need to make a reputation for myself. When I am painting the world is mine! Should this scheme which I am broaching prove a failure I will still go on making watercolors. I will paint my grave and lie in it, and though my eyes will be closed forever I shall enjoy every aspect of my demise, despite the lack of perspective, the lack of form, the lack of this and that. I will have a colorful end, perhaps not in the style of Paul Klee or John Marin (who is alive, praise God!), but an end, my own end, the only end that anyone should aspire. And now, before diving into “the genesis of a masterpiece,” let me suggest that you make note of my and address, both of which are more or less permanent: Henry Miller, Big Sur, California March 14th, 1943 P.S. Anyone wishing to encourage the water-color mania would do well to send me paper, brushes and tubes, of which I am always in need. I would also be grateful for old clothes, shirts, socks, etc. I am 5 feet 8 inches tall, weight 150 lbs, 15 ½ neck, 38 chest, 32 waist, hat and shoes both size 7 to 71/2/ Love corduroys. P.P.S. This letter was mimeographed and distributed for me by a kind friend in Chicago. |
my mom has a painting i made in ninth grade in their wc. it is completely awful. 'Nobody, not even myself, can ever detect what is called “a resemblance.” Fortunately, resemblances are no longer in vogue.' i like the address. my grandma said that people used to send my grandpa mail when he was hunting. it was addressed '[his name], U.P.' and he got it, i think that is so cool. |
Yeah, I love the fact that his address is like that. In fact though, Big Sur is still such a remote area you could probably still get away with that now. I can't imagine the population is more than a few hundred. Im rereading the book this letter is in, Stand Still Like the Hummingbird ( i really have to bust out those boxes of books in the closet, i need new reading material). When i was in Big Sur, i bought a print of another letter he posted on his gate. My next task is to type that. Upon rereading this letter yesterday I put the print above my toilet, replacing the Lichtenstein print, which i moved into view should you be making pipi #2. I also have a photograph of mine hanging in my water closet along with two pictures of my meow meows. I put the pics of the meow meows to freak angry sam out because he was always complaining the cats watch him pee. (they are just waiting by the sink to have you turn it on, the stare is intimidation.) Now the pictures watch him too. |
Well I was impressed anyway! Con-grats! |
Where can we find Bust magazine online? |
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singing old man river at the top of my lungs and i swear youll be able to hear it in LA. |
dinner lady can you email me? |
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I find it hard to believe a national mag would print me in any shape or size with out me knowing about it. |
gone wild". you didnt show off yer uh you know, when you were in NY did ya? i think i still have those penis pics you took when you stole my camera in LA. someday thats gonna be worth cold hard cash toots. |
fer fucksake dinner lady you had me all freaked out!!! i was thinking someone had poached some of those nudies of nico and i from years ago and made an ad and what not. i was thinking about what kind of legal retribution i could take and so on... no. its just a nerve personals ad, with an ages old ad i made for nico and i, for when i was meeting friends on nerve chat. now that the chat is defunct, i should destroy that ad. where did you get the idea we were divorcing? nothing could be further from the truth. since the ad it self talks about both of us, it certainly doesnt imply that. anyway, i really should remove that piece of shit nuisance. |
Ah the internet - it's evil! |
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bedroom and everything..... |
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Well sorta! My job is deeply sucking - I work for City government and it seems that my boss' boss has a thing against me, my boss, my department and a number of people here who do nothing worse than come in, do their jobs and are competent. I suspect this is because the big boss does none of these things and surrounds herself with yes men. She is the sort that if she was walking off a cliff and you said 'WAIT STOP YOU'RE GOING TO WALK OFF A CLIFF!' she would snipe 'how dare you question my judgement?' then walk off the cliff. So things are depressing here and I'm looking but the economy is el-suckola now as you all may have noticed? How many times can I use derivatives of the word SUCK in one paragraph? And I have moved on to having a mostly functional relationship, with a decent boy who I get on well with and who isn't full of a lot of crap but he's moving 3 hrs away to go to grad school for the next 5 years so I don't know if that will shut us down or not. I'm not moving with him, nor would I consider it because he's moving to an area where there are trees and a college and that's it. It would be a big mistake for me to give up 80% of what makes me happy in my life to follow someone to a place where there is nothing going on, you know? So as sour as all this sounds, I do still have all my fingers and toes and what not so I probably shouldn't complain. There are much worse situations to be in. Just sort of a weird stressful time of change in my life now. Would like to fast forward to December to see how everything works out. If only my life was on DVD I could just skip to the next good part. What's up with you J???? I would love to hear! There's too much for me to read on these boards to sort out who what where and when since I last I peeked. I had to pop in when I saw that picture of Patrick in Bust though - it was too kooky! I can't believe I'm the one who was the first to see it. What are the odds? |
every single weekend! Suck it up , dinner lady, that's easy as pie. |
He's a good guy but I don't know if there is a future there. We're talking about someone moving away for 5 years and not seeing him every weekend (there are other things that come up in life - his studies, my life outside of the relationship, not to mention laundry). Additionally, I'm not crazy about having every weekend domintated by a visit to the exclusion of everything else. I guess I find it hard to believe that I can be in a fulfilling/successful LTR with someone who has only limited in-person availability. I feel like being together is part of the point. By the time he gets out of school and could move anywhere near where I live I'll be 40. That seems a long long time from now. But I vascilate. Sometimes I think I should just end it, sometimes I want to really try, sometimes I think no matter what I try it is a hopeless situation. Have you been in a situation similar Sem? I'm interested in people's experiences with this sort of thing. I've met very very few who have made this sort of thing work. |
The other issue is my beau is somewhat obsessively domestic. We live a mile apart now and it's hard to get him out of the house, even though it is 90 here and I have AC and he doesn't. So I guess I question how it can work to move 3 hrs away if he barely can get his ass out of the house now. I know, it's sort of weird I guess |
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Thanks for that motivation insight about the A/C - yes, it makes me wonder too. I mean, he's 1 mile away with a car and would rather sleep in deadly heat so he can be with his cat or putter around the house or something rather than sleep at my house in air conditioned comfort. So how can I expect to see much of him when he's moved 150 miles away? I like him a lot but sometimes wonder if the relationship got any more serious if I could put up with his odd baggage. He's a swell guy in a lot of ways but even his sister thinks he is from Mars. So please explain how your s/o lost his toe but you don't know why. That sounds like you just woke up and it snuck off on it's own in the middle of the night. It didn't, did it? Once I lived in an apartment and my landlord - during a poor attempt to fix our bathroom (no coffee, 8 AM) - cut his finger off with a power saw. He took a glass from our dish drainer, put his disconnected finger in it and then went out to... WAIT FOR THE BUS to get to the hospital (what a cheap fuck). His roommate wound up running into him and driving him to the emergency room which is almost a shame because I'm sure the story about him being on the bus with a disconnected finger would be about a million times better. |
Here's my situation. I am currently about 12- 14 hours away from my love. Starting in the fall, I will only be about 8-10 hours away. If she were only three hours away, that would be so awesome. As it is, we're going to try to spend no more than three weeks apart from each other at a time, and are talking about plans for next summer as well. This phase of the relationship may be a little expensive, but I can afford it. And she's worth it. If you don't want to spend every weekend with this guy, then you should probably not engage in a LDR with him. Kazoointoit and I, when we are together, spend almost every moment together and don't even bat an eye. I would spend every day with her if I could. LDR's can work, but only if both people are fully committed to each other, and are both aware of what it's going to be like. |
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What was really scary was having a whole bunch of conversations that might not have come up so soon. Sem and I haven't really been together for that long (it's been about three months but it feels like much longer than that) but I wanted to know how he felt about big important things, (i.e. children, and the big M) because it didn't seem like a good idea to start something only to find out that we have differences in those areas that neither wants to compromise on. So, it's not like we are rushing and making these big plans, but we agree on our goals and values in this thing. The only thing we don't agree on is children. We're both pro-adoption but I want a baby, but he doesn't want to change diapers and wants someone old enough to make him a sandwich. |
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Most of my relationships last a total of two weeks..maybe a month if im lucky. I just get bored pretty quickly. The few that make it a little bit longer, well, at some point I end up fleeing the idea of commitment anyway. Somethings changing now though and it feels...I don't know. I'm not used to it. I've been with Matt for five months now. This is about the time that I start freaking out and turning my head to other boys wondering what else is out there. What I'm missing. For the first time, I'm not feeling that way. It's a weird feeling and I've never felt it before, but he almost makes me feel..is it content? He's enough. He fills all the spaces I need filled and I don't think there's anyone else who could do a better job than him. In every relationship I've been in, I've known it was going to end at some point. Even the ones that I was all in love with. At some point, I could see when I would not be in love anymore. Or that all of a sudden there'd be someone else. I guess what I'm trying to say is that this time I don't have that forboding sense of doom lurking in the background. It's new and different. I like it. A lot. |
heh heh heh heh |
I have it on good account that Joey, the double-penised circus boy with the 2 foot split tongue is out there and available. If you're interested, I can get you his phone number. |
youd catch on to that. rub my butt down with baby oil? dougie...you know that lizard guy that made the news a little bit back? he had scales tattooed all over his body and bumps put into his back and face...and his tongue split.. that'd be a tough one...yer right yer right...id probably dump matt for the amazing lizard boy in a heartbeat...but he's the only one... oh, and joey macintyre. |
These traits are not considered *detremental* by some of us. |
(ouch) |
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Last time I saw him he was running around in a pink frock screaming something about Barbara Streisand. Needless to say, I'm not sure there's much of a chance there... |
Re: other stuff. I think I get Nate's comment - like there is POTENTIAL for LTR in most relationships, I think it's weather it seems worthwhile the longer it goes on. But potential is always there. I'm feeling more optimistic about my relationship working out today, we talked some over the weekend and I have a better idea of where things are going, but I think that it's probably impossible to tell what will happen right now. His moving will precipitate changes in his life, he's 29 and lord knows my life changed quite a bit at 29! Enormously! I think it's one of those times of your life when things really change. This is the 2nd longest relationship I've ever had (1.5 yrs), the other one was 3 yrs and someone I lived with. Otherwise it has often been "hump n' dump" (gee, what a fancy phrase), things never work out for more than 3 months otherwise and rightfully so! They were all drags! I'd rather be alone than wasting my time on some dork-boy at this point. and J - I'm glad to hear that toe didn't run off on it's own! Ha! |
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It's like those single socks you always see laying in the gutter - where were they going? Where is their mate? |
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