words of art

in a recurring dream i get lost in a painting. the colors melt under my gaze and travel to the floor, where they cover my bare feet.  some stories would like to be painted, but my hands have no interest in paintbrushes, they insist on felt tip.
i can barely draw a straight line, much less live one.  i can't draw, paint, sculpt, or sketch: my right sided brain has left sided tendencies and only wishes to string words together.
some people feel the need to create beauty and wind up having kids or climbing mountains. i go searching for pastries and a pen. 

John Baldessari, I Will Not Make Any More Boring Art

John Baldessari, Space