For some unknown reason really you find yourself feeling a sort of.. connection to certain artists. And for me that most certainly goes for this fella- sculptor Alberto Giacometti. An aloof, idiotically crazed creator who cared for little much else but for creating works of outrageous sculpture, even if and when observers didn’t quite get it, get his vision. I get it. And the ugliness for me of his work is actually why I like it so much. A desirable and bearishly beautiful kind of ugly but ugly no less. And, of course, beautiful no less. That meticulousness owing to his craft I totally understand and, what’s more, to get to one day maybe even sit with an artist of his particular ilk and variety might just be an amazing experience, as it would literally have me playing a walk-on/sit-down part in my own poem-piece. As in, we would both be simultaneously creating something unique- one in front of the other. Now.. that, for me, would be pretty much one of the greatest experiences that I could imagine. For the time being anyhow. Than and hanging out with a certain Valencian lady. Few things better than a rush of brand new culture to the head for any scribbler worth their salt

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