india ink, watercolor, and pencil
24″x25″
2001
For seven years in my thirties (during which time I was mostly occupied with avoiding my proposed Duke dissertation on Thomas Hardy), I lived with the novelist Laura Argiri in the old house she’d inherited from her grandmother.
It’s amusing, these days, to look back on those days, when we were both figuring out, on a weekly basis, if we even WANTED to jump-the-necessary-hoops for securing a place on the grubby fringe of this area’s artistic&literary “circles”.
As I recall, we pretty-much (and wisely) decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.
