TREVOR SOUTHEY | painter printmaker sculptor

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12-03 - Part One, Part Two, Part Three

PART TWO

PAST ENTRY: Friday July 4 2001, St. Petersburg
I am falling in love all over again. It is the people. Organizing everything is time consuming and a pain but the sense of humor, youthful fun etc. surely makes it an overall joyful experience. Of course there remains the endless sense of intrigue and skullduggery, so trust is in short supply but once one accepts that, one just get on with it. Of course I, in my usual blundering innocence, have no idea as to what is really going on and will probably barge where angels fear to tread.

6th. The sun pounds the Venetian blinds. Yesterday’s excursion to Peterhof was for me somewhat spoiled by the heat. What an amazing place. I loved the cool of the gardens and the way history projected from the very bricks and mortar of the buildings. Could not help thinking that for me the gilded statues, many if not all seeming to be copies, were a bit much, often coyly “clothed” in fig leaves. Did not get a chance for a close study, but a glance suggested not very good copies – vulgar and hasty attempt to emulate more western palaces. Timeless beauty takes time. Although I must admit history is replete with evidence that the combination of wealth and ruthless ambition has wrought wonders, but in this case there are plenty of details that remind one of a cardboard cut out. Maybe I am just not looking hard enough. But in the super structure such as in the stone canals, for me the real beauty lies, in them and the distance glittering spires like those of the Peter/Paul fortress.

8th 2.30 a.m. Dinner at midnight. White night wonder, darkest dark a deep ultramarine blue… 10th the day was glorious for me because the heat broke in strong cleansing rain to be repeated in the evening with a sky seething with dramatic cloud exploding in lightning, thunder and more welcome rain. That there were clearing spells spilling sunshine onto the wetted city made things even better. This great setting placed us in the perfect mood for the restaurant called “Garcon” with superb food (U.S. prices) and best of all the live musicians who were brilliant. I hate the superlatives born perhaps of free flowing wine, but they only describe my joy in a small way…

We walked out the merriest band in spite of a few little typical tensions. Little did we know as we ambled up the Nevsky there would be an explosion other than nature’s storm from a most unlikely quarter. In a matter of perhaps sixty seconds, they went from debate to heated words to a swing by Feyodor leaving Andrei lying on the pavement moaning. I was stunned and angry and embarrassed walking ahead until I realized I had to take part assisting those who were assisting him to his feet. The argument resumed and had to be broken up by me. Andrei apologized sulkily and took off. Fyodor, still heated, and horribly embarrassed explained that it was rooted in the inevitable financial pressures and then he took off too. Andrei then calls us at 1.30 a.m. with more of the story. Fyodor made it home but Andrei refused him entry, so he climbs up outside the building the three floors risking his life, breaks the kitchen window, Andrei calls the police, no arrest because Fyodor has left. He asks us to give him shelter for the night should he show up. He did not.

At least the weather has cooled. I love it. But it does little to soften the sense of tearful sorrow that my illusions are just that, illusions. To me this seems to be a tough if sentimental people. Cannot but imagine what my friend V’s life may really be like…Went out to his apartment shared with his girl friend. I was so glad to see it for myself. It was small but comfortable in one of the enormous crumbling housing projects of the 50’s or 60’s (I guess) on the outskirts of the city. But it was set in a wild environment of trees and lush weeds filling large spaces between the buildings.

RUSSIA, SEPTEMBER 9 2003, St. PETERSBURG
Arrived about four and was happily surprised to find Vova with Igor. I have not been in direct contact with him for months and was worrying about him. I have good reason to worry and feel helpless in the face of it. His factory job was in plastics and made him horribly sick and indeed he has lost yet more weight. But he seems happy with his wife and baby Irena though money is a constant burden to them.

We are ensconced in an apartment at #13 Marata Prospect just off the Nevsky (central street of the city). It has good studio/living space and two bedrooms. Of course a certain spoiled brat has planted himself firmly in the master bedroom. But I am perfectly happy in my space though the furnishings are sparse. I love the sheer solidity of these old buildings with their deep, deep windows. This place has double glazed windows which makes it pretty quiet though there does seem to be one particular car alarm going off regularly while another chirps one little bleep very minute or two or is that something else… I know this building sits with a couple of others between the Hungarian Consulate and a very swanky Swiss hotel. Maybe the chirp is some security thing.

We have a very sophisticated security system here with a huge steel door opened by gentle brush against what seems to be plastered wall of a plastic thing on the key ring. That leads to a shared entrance with a couple of other apartments and then there is a double dead bolt on our actual door. The feeling of a wild Wild West still pervades to a certain extent and I am not much easier when Alexei (one of Jim’s local partners) told us of his father-in-law being hijacked in his car, driven into the countryside and abandoned. But it is so good to be back among my Russian friends. I had forgotten how much I miss them.

WEDNESDAY
11 p.m. Exhausted did a rather inadequate job on a drawing of a cadet. Young man named Dmitri, whose face was so tender that I struggled to tap into him enough to make the kind of mark on me so that I could really get a grip. No excuses… know exactly what I needed to do and kept at it but my back eventually gave out. A sweet woman, Irena came by and cooked a splendid meal that I thought would last for days but it was virtually all consumed by us and guests. Jimmy is really great as he tries to do the right thing by people.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2003, 10.A.M.
It was exactly two years ago that the horror occurred. I had been in Russia just two hours when Jim called me to watch CNN. I will never forget that day and the anxiety I had being away from the family. This has been strange pattern for me. Away the day after the big quake of ’89, away for the fires in the hills in ’93, in New York when my dear old Mom died in the house…I have been half expecting that a massive “anniversary” might be attempted and of course it is the middle of the night at home. There is too much time for them. I find myself waiting, if not this day then others, all too aware as to how easy it would be.

4 p.m. I have spent a few minutes reworking the drawing of Dmitri and already feel better about it. There are times when it is better to work from memory because it is almost as if the memory collects impressions and then allows them freer expression when working. I like to think that having the model in front of me is good and in a sense the collective nature of the sitter makes itself apparent. But the very act of sitting tends to arrest that freedom in some people, especially the cadets. It is almost as if there is a kind of man-boy nature to Russian males that plays out depending on circumstances. One minute these lads are joshing each other and laughing with a huge easily accessible sense of humor, and the next it is as if the weight of family responsibility rests on their shoulders, or in the case of the cadets, the weight of national trust, and that weight becomes present in the persona. Certainly true of this drawing as he would be paging through my book looking all the world like a youth of such romantic innocence and then I would have him sit, and the sailor would present himself to me, dignity, spine stiff with strength, chin raised in drill sergeant’s pride. I seek to link these parts and as much personal history as when I do portraits. I find it increasingly difficult. Age? Or am I becoming more demanding? I feel sometimes that I have gone away from the demands of my younger years in some casual wandering, and now want to return more to that discipline.

6.40 p.m. Have just stopped working on Dmitri. He is so young looking and I have struggled to be true to that but as usual a strange seriousness descends on these drawings and the weight I wrote of above is apparent no matter how hard I try to avoid it.

SUNDAY 14TH, 9.15 A.M.
Did two drawings yesterday, one of an old lady and another of a fifth year cadet who used to be in the Marinsky Ballet. He seemed so tough and even a little mean but I liked working from him. I could really imagine him in battle and thought of the agony of Chechnya. I love this work but I am so glad that I am headed down the home stretch in the project. I relish doing these studies and finally seem to have moved into my stride.

MONDAY SEPEMBER 15, 2003, 12.45 P.M.
Vova is off hopefully picking up a Babushka. I worry that he seems to be slack in his research and I can only protect him so much from the wrath of the powers that be, Jim, Alexei and Igor. I don’t know whether he is just shy but I suspect this whole procedure is tougher than one realizes. People are very suspicious which is understandable given their history.

10.50 p.m.
The Babushka was a classic. The powers that be are indeed thrilled and I am very pleased with the start I have on a person who will definitely be a painting. She was so funny and so direct, suddenly pointing at me and declaring something in her strong voice. Vova translated it as she is just short of falling in love with me. She also said she was glad she was not scared. And that is I think the root of getting these older people to pose. Suspicion. They lived through so much and suspicion and fear were critical to survival. There was no way for her to know we were not some kind of villains. But as I watched V interview, I was again profoundly impressed by the way he connected with her, the respectful gaze of his eyes as he politely asked questions. He is a very impressive young man even if as Cadet Alex (subject of second large painting) says, he is a simple man. At twenty-two now, he is simply impressive in his grace and maturity. We had lunch today alone, really the first time alone, and it is amazing to think of our struggling communication compared to now when the years of his English classes have paid off so well. I cherish our friendship and think of him as family. Alexei repeated tonight that it is time for him to go to the states. I would be so thrilled to have him around for a few weeks, to show him a good time. He has become such an excellent assistant by now. He went home to his wife and baby daughter tonight instead of sleeping over in the living room with Ruslan. The latter has surely become fun to be around, his naughty ways from the first trip now being somewhat tempered by the extra few years. But he is still tempted by the bottle. I am so proud of the way Jim and his partners stay loyal to some of these people.

TUESDAY, 6.30 A.M.
Have been sleeping like a baby and loving the rhythm of the days accordingly. Frustrated to find myself doing the old thing again, waking up prematurely and worrying about things. The rest of the household does not usually rise till about nine. My mind plays through all kinds of things, the work at hand, the personalities of the various players here, generosity and injustice… silly things over which I have so little control. Was in the kitchen a few minutes ago getting some water and watched as a large truck sprayed the already rain wetted streets in cleaning. How I wish there were some way to clean up the courtyards so well.

6.15 P.M.

Worked from a sweet young girl aged nine who was brought by Sasha who is one of the first cadets and who has been part of the team finding models. The child’s brother, Ilya, accompanied her. He was a rugged soul and I mistook him for her father. I fear he might have been insulted though people here seem not be to be insulted easily. The drawing came quickly, which was a complete surprise to me because I feel children are so difficult. She was dressed in black and white with white lace flowers in her hair. I do not recollect a model declining rests totally much less sitting so still, so solemnly and simply watching my eyes. She seemed to project that same old elusive nature of Russians that beguiles me so. And Jim when he arrived said that in effect, I was capturing Russia. I would hope so.

The derdushka (grandfather) whom I will draw today is here and I should go to work. But I need a transition and this writing is it. I just went in there and they are all watching cartoons, the old man enjoying them as much as the woman who accompanied him as a social worker and of course the cadets. J and S are off doing stuff the J’s new apartment. I feel the need to shut my eyes a minute…

WEDNESDAY, 10.30 P.M.

“Came over poorly” I believe is the old British expression. Was brushing my teeth and suddenly felt weird, a little faint. Hope I am not sickening for something. We are on a working roll and I am worn out. Must be brief. What to me seemed like a very old man came this afternoon and I did what I felt was a pretty good drawing of the old codger. Discovered later that he was not more than five years older than me. Shows how brutal life can be. He was so funny, making faces and cracking up every now and then. But after I had done the drawing, Vova asked him some questions about the war and he became weepy telling us that his father and three uncles had been killed in WWII. The young in the U.S. who were barely touched by this, can only begin to comprehend while the young here just shrug it off as common because they were almost all touched by it, as Vova did just that when I asked for the translation. “The usual”, he said with that shrug. They seem so amused by my anguish.

Later this afternoon was another event related because J came up with the idea of a painting of buddies in full uniform together. We had the most remarkable experience, first packing ourselves on to a bus in rush hour and then waiting in the park in front of the Academy when the sweet and remarkable Cadet Alex came marching up with ten cadets and two young officers (he used to be their superior), literally marching that is, shoulders back, chins high. They remained formally at attention until the very end while I made selections for three of them to come to the studio to pose for a group painting which I think may work well… but when will it end. Almost all the kids were so tough and tender I could not help being moved and to my embarrassment became a little weepy as I thanked them stressing my feeling of humanness needing to transcend nationhood. Sentimental old fool.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2003, 6.45 P.M.
Just had a marvelous time photographing three cadets from yesterday afternoon, from left to right I need to remember, Kirriel, (English speaker and natural leader), Ilya (handsome and short) and Andrei (handsome one who could not be serious). Jim came up with the idea and though I am loathe to increase my burden in this project, I feel strongly that these three lads, in full uniform will be a perfect foil for the nude individuals along with the family members. I would very much like to include the newspaper clipping image of a child being buried in Afghanistan but must first get permission for copyright purposes (J says he will take care of that along with all the other stuff he has in mind). Then I started to worry about the levity of these lads next to such a tragic image. Would separate them somehow. The whole context issue is so important to me…. Would also like to do another “Ode to Ideology”.

It has been an incredible day of production even though there were more moments of respite than usual. Poor Vova is beginning to separate himself from me I think because facing the grueling task of his normal life must need some easing into, and in a way I am a father to him seen too rarely.

READ 12-03 Part Three







				back to Trevor's Update \| send a message to Trevor 12-03 - Part One, Part Two, Part Three PART TWO PAST ENTRY: Friday July 4 2001, St. Petersburg I am falling in love all over again. It is the people. Organizing everything is time consuming and a pain but the sense of humor, youthful fun etc. surely makes it an overall joyful experience. Of course there remains the endless sense of intrigue and skullduggery, so trust is in short supply but once one accepts that, one just get on with it. Of course I, in my usual blundering innocence, have no idea as to what is really going on and will probably barge where angels fear to tread. 6th. The sun pounds the Venetian blinds. Yesterday’s excursion to Peterhof was for me somewhat spoiled by the heat. What an amazing place. I loved the cool of the gardens and the way history projected from the very bricks and mortar of the buildings. Could not help thinking that for me the gilded statues, many if not all seeming to be copies, were a bit much, often coyly “clothed” in fig leaves. Did not get a chance for a close study, but a glance suggested not very good copies – vulgar and hasty attempt to emulate more western palaces. Timeless beauty takes time. Although I must admit history is replete with evidence that the combination of wealth and ruthless ambition has wrought wonders, but in this case there are plenty of details that remind one of a cardboard cut out. Maybe I am just not looking hard enough. But in the super structure such as in the stone canals, for me the real beauty lies, in them and the distance glittering spires like those of the Peter/Paul fortress. 8th 2.30 a.m. Dinner at midnight. White night wonder, darkest dark a deep ultramarine blue… 10th the day was glorious for me because the heat broke in strong cleansing rain to be repeated in the evening with a sky seething with dramatic cloud exploding in lightning, thunder and more welcome rain. That there were clearing spells spilling sunshine onto the wetted city made things even better. This great setting placed us in the perfect mood for the restaurant called “Garcon” with superb food (U.S. prices) and best of all the live musicians who were brilliant. I hate the superlatives born perhaps of free flowing wine, but they only describe my joy in a small way… We walked out the merriest band in spite of a few little typical tensions. Little did we know as we ambled up the Nevsky there would be an explosion other than nature’s storm from a most unlikely quarter. In a matter of perhaps sixty seconds, they went from debate to heated words to a swing by Feyodor leaving Andrei lying on the pavement moaning. I was stunned and angry and embarrassed walking ahead until I realized I had to take part assisting those who were assisting him to his feet. The argument resumed and had to be broken up by me. Andrei apologized sulkily and took off. Fyodor, still heated, and horribly embarrassed explained that it was rooted in the inevitable financial pressures and then he took off too. Andrei then calls us at 1.30 a.m. with more of the story. Fyodor made it home but Andrei refused him entry, so he climbs up outside the building the three floors risking his life, breaks the kitchen window, Andrei calls the police, no arrest because Fyodor has left. He asks us to give him shelter for the night should he show up. He did not. At least the weather has cooled. I love it. But it does little to soften the sense of tearful sorrow that my illusions are just that, illusions. To me this seems to be a tough if sentimental people. Cannot but imagine what my friend V’s life may really be like…Went out to his apartment shared with his girl friend. I was so glad to see it for myself. It was small but comfortable in one of the enormous crumbling housing projects of the 50’s or 60’s (I guess) on the outskirts of the city. But it was set in a wild environment of trees and lush weeds filling large spaces between the buildings. RUSSIA, SEPTEMBER 9 2003, St. PETERSBURG Arrived about four and was happily surprised to find Vova with Igor. I have not been in direct contact with him for months and was worrying about him. I have good reason to worry and feel helpless in the face of it. His factory job was in plastics and made him horribly sick and indeed he has lost yet more weight. But he seems happy with his wife and baby Irena though money is a constant burden to them. We are ensconced in an apartment at #13 Marata Prospect just off the Nevsky (central street of the city). It has good studio/living space and two bedrooms. Of course a certain spoiled brat has planted himself firmly in the master bedroom. But I am perfectly happy in my space though the furnishings are sparse. I love the sheer solidity of these old buildings with their deep, deep windows. This place has double glazed windows which makes it pretty quiet though there does seem to be one particular car alarm going off regularly while another chirps one little bleep very minute or two or is that something else… I know this building sits with a couple of others between the Hungarian Consulate and a very swanky Swiss hotel. Maybe the chirp is some security thing. We have a very sophisticated security system here with a huge steel door opened by gentle brush against what seems to be plastered wall of a plastic thing on the key ring. That leads to a shared entrance with a couple of other apartments and then there is a double dead bolt on our actual door. The feeling of a wild Wild West still pervades to a certain extent and I am not much easier when Alexei (one of Jim’s local partners) told us of his father-in-law being hijacked in his car, driven into the countryside and abandoned. But it is so good to be back among my Russian friends. I had forgotten how much I miss them. WEDNESDAY 11 p.m. Exhausted did a rather inadequate job on a drawing of a cadet. Young man named Dmitri, whose face was so tender that I struggled to tap into him enough to make the kind of mark on me so that I could really get a grip. No excuses… know exactly what I needed to do and kept at it but my back eventually gave out. A sweet woman, Irena came by and cooked a splendid meal that I thought would last for days but it was virtually all consumed by us and guests. Jimmy is really great as he tries to do the right thing by people. THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2003, 10.A.M. It was exactly two years ago that the horror occurred. I had been in Russia just two hours when Jim called me to watch CNN. I will never forget that day and the anxiety I had being away from the family. This has been strange pattern for me. Away the day after the big quake of ’89, away for the fires in the hills in ’93, in New York when my dear old Mom died in the house…I have been half expecting that a massive “anniversary” might be attempted and of course it is the middle of the night at home. There is too much time for them. I find myself waiting, if not this day then others, all too aware as to how easy it would be. 4 p.m. I have spent a few minutes reworking the drawing of Dmitri and already feel better about it. There are times when it is better to work from memory because it is almost as if the memory collects impressions and then allows them freer expression when working. I like to think that having the model in front of me is good and in a sense the collective nature of the sitter makes itself apparent. But the very act of sitting tends to arrest that freedom in some people, especially the cadets. It is almost as if there is a kind of man-boy nature to Russian males that plays out depending on circumstances. One minute these lads are joshing each other and laughing with a huge easily accessible sense of humor, and the next it is as if the weight of family responsibility rests on their shoulders, or in the case of the cadets, the weight of national trust, and that weight becomes present in the persona. Certainly true of this drawing as he would be paging through my book looking all the world like a youth of such romantic innocence and then I would have him sit, and the sailor would present himself to me, dignity, spine stiff with strength, chin raised in drill sergeant’s pride. I seek to link these parts and as much personal history as when I do portraits. I find it increasingly difficult. Age? Or am I becoming more demanding? I feel sometimes that I have gone away from the demands of my younger years in some casual wandering, and now want to return more to that discipline. 6.40 p.m. Have just stopped working on Dmitri. He is so young looking and I have struggled to be true to that but as usual a strange seriousness descends on these drawings and the weight I wrote of above is apparent no matter how hard I try to avoid it. SUNDAY 14TH, 9.15 A.M. Did two drawings yesterday, one of an old lady and another of a fifth year cadet who used to be in the Marinsky Ballet. He seemed so tough and even a little mean but I liked working from him. I could really imagine him in battle and thought of the agony of Chechnya. I love this work but I am so glad that I am headed down the home stretch in the project. I relish doing these studies and finally seem to have moved into my stride. MONDAY SEPEMBER 15, 2003, 12.45 P.M. Vova is off hopefully picking up a Babushka. I worry that he seems to be slack in his research and I can only protect him so much from the wrath of the powers that be, Jim, Alexei and Igor. I don’t know whether he is just shy but I suspect this whole procedure is tougher than one realizes. People are very suspicious which is understandable given their history. 10.50 p.m. The Babushka was a classic. The powers that be are indeed thrilled and I am very pleased with the start I have on a person who will definitely be a painting. She was so funny and so direct, suddenly pointing at me and declaring something in her strong voice. Vova translated it as she is just short of falling in love with me. She also said she was glad she was not scared. And that is I think the root of getting these older people to pose. Suspicion. They lived through so much and suspicion and fear were critical to survival. There was no way for her to know we were not some kind of villains. But as I watched V interview, I was again profoundly impressed by the way he connected with her, the respectful gaze of his eyes as he politely asked questions. He is a very impressive young man even if as Cadet Alex (subject of second large painting) says, he is a simple man. At twenty-two now, he is simply impressive in his grace and maturity. We had lunch today alone, really the first time alone, and it is amazing to think of our struggling communication compared to now when the years of his English classes have paid off so well. I cherish our friendship and think of him as family. Alexei repeated tonight that it is time for him to go to the states. I would be so thrilled to have him around for a few weeks, to show him a good time. He has become such an excellent assistant by now. He went home to his wife and baby daughter tonight instead of sleeping over in the living room with Ruslan. The latter has surely become fun to be around, his naughty ways from the first trip now being somewhat tempered by the extra few years. But he is still tempted by the bottle. I am so proud of the way Jim and his partners stay loyal to some of these people. TUESDAY, 6.30 A.M. Have been sleeping like a baby and loving the rhythm of the days accordingly. Frustrated to find myself doing the old thing again, waking up prematurely and worrying about things. The rest of the household does not usually rise till about nine. My mind plays through all kinds of things, the work at hand, the personalities of the various players here, generosity and injustice… silly things over which I have so little control. Was in the kitchen a few minutes ago getting some water and watched as a large truck sprayed the already rain wetted streets in cleaning. How I wish there were some way to clean up the courtyards so well. 6.15 P.M. Worked from a sweet young girl aged nine who was brought by Sasha who is one of the first cadets and who has been part of the team finding models. The child’s brother, Ilya, accompanied her. He was a rugged soul and I mistook him for her father. I fear he might have been insulted though people here seem not be to be insulted easily. The drawing came quickly, which was a complete surprise to me because I feel children are so difficult. She was dressed in black and white with white lace flowers in her hair. I do not recollect a model declining rests totally much less sitting so still, so solemnly and simply watching my eyes. She seemed to project that same old elusive nature of Russians that beguiles me so. And Jim when he arrived said that in effect, I was capturing Russia. I would hope so. The derdushka (grandfather) whom I will draw today is here and I should go to work. But I need a transition and this writing is it. I just went in there and they are all watching cartoons, the old man enjoying them as much as the woman who accompanied him as a social worker and of course the cadets. J and S are off doing stuff the J’s new apartment. I feel the need to shut my eyes a minute… WEDNESDAY, 10.30 P.M. “Came over poorly” I believe is the old British expression. Was brushing my teeth and suddenly felt weird, a little faint. Hope I am not sickening for something. We are on a working roll and I am worn out. Must be brief. What to me seemed like a very old man came this afternoon and I did what I felt was a pretty good drawing of the old codger. Discovered later that he was not more than five years older than me. Shows how brutal life can be. He was so funny, making faces and cracking up every now and then. But after I had done the drawing, Vova asked him some questions about the war and he became weepy telling us that his father and three uncles had been killed in WWII. The young in the U.S. who were barely touched by this, can only begin to comprehend while the young here just shrug it off as common because they were almost all touched by it, as Vova did just that when I asked for the translation. “The usual”, he said with that shrug. They seem so amused by my anguish. Later this afternoon was another event related because J came up with the idea of a painting of buddies in full uniform together. We had the most remarkable experience, first packing ourselves on to a bus in rush hour and then waiting in the park in front of the Academy when the sweet and remarkable Cadet Alex came marching up with ten cadets and two young officers (he used to be their superior), literally marching that is, shoulders back, chins high. They remained formally at attention until the very end while I made selections for three of them to come to the studio to pose for a group painting which I think may work well… but when will it end. Almost all the kids were so tough and tender I could not help being moved and to my embarrassment became a little weepy as I thanked them stressing my feeling of humanness needing to transcend nationhood. Sentimental old fool. THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2003, 6.45 P.M. Just had a marvelous time photographing three cadets from yesterday afternoon, from left to right I need to remember, Kirriel, (English speaker and natural leader), Ilya (handsome and short) and Andrei (handsome one who could not be serious). Jim came up with the idea and though I am loathe to increase my burden in this project, I feel strongly that these three lads, in full uniform will be a perfect foil for the nude individuals along with the family members. I would very much like to include the newspaper clipping image of a child being buried in Afghanistan but must first get permission for copyright purposes (J says he will take care of that along with all the other stuff he has in mind). Then I started to worry about the levity of these lads next to such a tragic image. Would separate them somehow. The whole context issue is so important to me…. Would also like to do another “Ode to Ideology”. It has been an incredible day of production even though there were more moments of respite than usual. Poor Vova is beginning to separate himself from me I think because facing the grueling task of his normal life must need some easing into, and in a way I am a father to him seen too rarely. READ 12-03 Part Three
		NOTES FROM OTHERS ...struck dumb by your "Warriors"... TREVOR'S UPDATE PAST 12-03 - Part One, Part Two, Part Three These paintings are to be a reflection of the way war spreads its impact... 06-19-03 find myself heading into summer having worked incredibly hard... 12-26-02 It is a curious thing to me that there is a kind of dance between life....