Start with nothing...and every image that ever swept across the screen of eyes and mind. The format...neutral and rectilinear...so not-so-neutral...blankness...not emptiness. With exact arbitrary dimensions...rationalized by the extent of peripheral vision, the mindscape and the sweep of recollection...attached to history by circuitous route of Lascaux to Arles to Broadway to here and now. Make the mark! Sound an alarm of form to be responded to with immediacy. An internal rectangle repeats the format...a reestablishment of the nothingness...but colored and explosively passive.
Marks shoot out and pass over...and under...like fireworks...but silent...a hearing of color. Loud, strident...some muffled echoes. "They" are like saints. Hovering behind the shoulder and scrutinizing the palette...Goya, Rembrandt, a young De Kooning...all hearing the tales of the caves...and sharing wisdom and the unknowable. Abstraction of mind and body...energy of motion, movement, obliteration of mark and reestablishment of space. Consciousness yields to swimming in the sea of action...there is no sense of time...the temperature is body-neutral. A star falls, its cataclysmic racket only a murmur because of the vast distances...outside. Everything is here on one plane. There is no deep space. Yet there is. Flat. Infinity. Silent harmonies.