A Contrarian At Heart, I

For Many Years, I Have Been Moved By The Blue At The Far Edge Of What Can Be Seen, That Color Of Horizons, Of Remote Mountain Ranges, Of Anything Far Away. The Color Of That Distance Is The Color Of An Emotion, The Color Of Solitude And Of Desire, The Color Of There Seen From Here, The Color Of Where You Are Not. And The Color Of Where You Can Never Go.

In Her Novel Regeneration, Pat Barker Writes Of A Doctor Who 'knew Only Too Well How Often The Early Stages Of Change Or Cure May Mimic Deterioration. Cut A Chrysalis Open, And You Will Find A Rotting Caterpillar. What You Will Never Find Is That Mythical Creature, Half Caterpillar, Half Butterfly, A Fit Emblem Of The Human Soul, For Those Whose Cast Of Mind Leads Them To Seek Such Emblems. No, The Process Of Transformation Consists Almost Entirely Of Decay.

There Was An Assumption That Aerial Bombing Of Civilians In World War Ii Would Cause Fragile, Working-class People To Basically Have Nervous Breakdowns And It Would Paralyze The State. That Was The Logic Of Aerial Bombing. In Fact, It Doesn't Happen At All, But The Logic Behind Aerial Bombing Has Never Stopped, Even Though It Never Demoralizes, Terrorizes, Or Paralyzes A Population.

I Feel Like We're In A Truly Revolutionary Period, Not Just In Terms Of Practical Activities To Overthrow Regimes In The Middle East Or Occupy But Also In Terms Of Radical Redefinitions. I Feel Like Workers Are A Big Part Of It, But There's So Much More Going On.

[on The] Question Of Why We Might Want To Look At Images Even More Than The Real Thing: I Think There Is Some Quality When You Look At An Image Of, Not Only Seeing This Thing, Whether It's The Horse Or The Sky, But You Are Seeing Somebody Point At It And Say, Look!