Cafe society shudders!   George Braque laughs! Museum curators gnash their teeth since they must now display that picture of the dogs playing poker!   Chollaball wallows in his overpriced liberal arts education!   This was a tragic loss to the art world, but when you gotta go, you gotta go.

Why do you write or paint or create, if you are not getting paid?   For yourself? For attention and self-esteem?   The inevitable answer is some of both, otherwise why bother having a website when you could just have a diary?

The creative undertaking must be personal, but the appreciation and attention adds to the satisfaction for me, not because I need validation, but because the idea becomes more powerful when its appreciated by others like-minded. The audience, even if anonymous and never encountered, inspires me to surround the kernel of creativity with rigor and discipline and honesty, to make the glimmer of a good idea into a nice piece of work, to achieve by the struggle for quality the genuine catharsis we seek when we create.

Recently I have written some fantastic posts, and kept them private.   The writing and research and sincerity are among the best I’ve ever done.   Its been essential to keeping me from totally losing my shit.   And I want to share it. Some things however, shouldn’t be public. This is not my day job, and often on the internet there is nothing to gain and much to lose.

After he became wildly successful, did Picasso need an audience? Maybe his puppy was all the audience he needed.

This post is a proxy for those I can not publish.