Poplar Wood Frame
Constructed by Jerry Jandacka

Text Composed by
James H. Searle

Text reading clockwise, top to right.

Top

When we look for the meaning of a word we only find more words. Can a man know what a star is if he has never lain out on the wet grass at night? A work of art speaks by resemblance but this is not what makes it different from what is “real” in the world.

The real world is only that part of our imagination upon which we have all agreed. The self is like a word; a marker in a longer set of interdependent relations.

Artists and farmers sew the same seeds and break the same bread, it is the first that unites them and the second that divides.

Left Side

To free the act of reading/seeing is to escape into a forest of rigor and strangeness that melts away what we seem to know. To read a painting is to move as the painter has moved, his breath is within your blinking eye.

All men are equal as they all share the faculty to believe in equality when it is so little present.

Bottom

Art endures not because it is immortal but because we will cease if we let it die. Art and history fill one another with a continuous breath. We mistake death with life as only one is beyond comprehension.

Right Side

The critic and the artist share in process. Their practice is mystified while their products are undervalued.