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The schedule like the modernist grid thematizes the paint. Paint as laughably hopeful-stand-in for thought, the aura of having thought, without containing it. Eroticising the noodling, doodles, messes, detritus, as the work itself, symbols of work, desperately, “drolly,” coming with nothing but itself in hand, the seed spilled.
Rorschachs as production schedules, enabling projection. A luring decipherability: telling us nothing, appearing as if they could. The paint/doodling is desire, hypothetical, schematics projecting into time, suspending the painting into delay, a pre. The touch, marks of a lifetime, on canvas, blown up. Noodling in time, marking it, as only spilling on a schedule could.