He's probably in that attic as I write this, breathing those fumes through an old bandana, pumping a cloud of color into the air.
It's hotter than hell up there, but he's working anyway. Maybe some Sebadoh, too, tonight.
He putting down lines at the speed of art. They will form something in front of your eyes, something you recognize. Or don't. Maybe a starry night. Maybe hands, outstretched to you or a building outstretched to the sky. Maybe a hill, or is it a breast?
He's an inspired slasher in the night, a dripper of form, a spatterer of blood and grass and sky colors.
He's been doing this since he was a young boy. I have seen a picture.
Kevin Pogo Curtis' beautiful work will be appearing at MOTR Pub, beginning this Friday, July 27th.
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