January 11, 20197 yr It's visceral and tortured. You can smell the rosin flying off into your face. I'd like to say that this is more about process, like Jackson Pollack. But it's more emotional than that. And ironically, a bit more detached because it is written down with the required equanimity of writing things on paper, and not flinging paint onto a canvas as though you were 'in the moment.'
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