Dennis Hollingsworth

Ahora

Our very important visitors were Miguel Marcos and his wife, Maria Mirentxu. Galleria Miguel Marcos is near the Plaza Cataluy?a, on the same block as that of a famous theater that I should know more about. (Ahem. Research pending.) Andr? made the introductions and we're glad he did becasue Miguel and Maria are delightful to be with. We met at their gallery a month ago and had dinner by the wharfs on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

Miguel is always up to something in conversation. And to raise the linguistic bar, he invents words, his own private vocabulary. Sporting a squinting eye and a lance in play such as:

"I'm going to ask you a question, and it's ok if you don't want to answer it but I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to tell me the truth."

That time, the question was "...why painting?". My answer -by my critique- was miserable. Awful. Muddled. Confused. Rambling. Yesterday, his question was aimed at the waiter: "...is the paella of this restaurant good?".

I felt a little better.

I enjoyed the studio visit, and it was great to have them here. Mirentxu is a lawyer and a judge and a teacher at the university in Barcelona. She's muy simpatico and she was polite to tolerate the frequent translations. Miguel asked me to join a group show (peeps like Schnabel, Barcelo, Pistoletto?) with a couple of paintings this June and of course I said yes. I'll post an announcement as soon as possible.

Spinning plates here, people. Say yes to life. Do it all. Life's short.

All the while, I've been thinking of moving wet rags over wet fields and attempting what I did before on canvas, now over a wet ground. Going from side to side, pinging off the edges over the whole visual field. Finally, the first touch demolishes all of the empires built in my minds eye... if I'm lucky.