It is a risk — to admit feeling an affinity with a great artist, an artist who is famous. But I do feel an affinity with Wolfgang Tillmans. Affinity, what does it mean? I feel a bond. I feel some kind of connection. I believe I understand his intentions with his photographs, that somehow they overlap with my intentions in writing. Ah, if I could write as well as he photographs! Then I’d be a happy lady. I’d be calm. I’d be confident. I’d be the best.
This article in The New Yorker is good. I felt very happy reading it. I am putting it on my blog because I want to re-read it. And re-read it. Like the little girl down the road who always wears bright pink when she takes this enormous push bike, which must be five times too big for her, and rides it up and down the street, up and down and up and down, paying little attention to cars reversing back up the road as she peddles forward, head down, concentrating, never stopping. Her legs are a foot too short from saddle to peddle, so she stands up on the peddles, her arms up high to steer, the seat of the bike level with her neck. She keeps going, never giving up, round and round the block. I see her pass my window from my office where I am working on my new book and I keep going even though I too can’t sit on the seat and must stand on the peddles and the book is five times too ambitious for me but I’ll do it anyway and I won’t give up until I can sit on that bloody seat.
Tillmans says: “You can’t be too sure about something, because otherwise you’re too full of yourself or you can’t see if there is a weakness in the work.” He’s right.
This is one of my faves:
“paper drop (London)” 2008 Wolfgang Tillmans