3-12-96
To think of a nude is to sketch a nude.
To sketch a nude is to paint a nude.
To paint a nude is to touch a nude.
To touch a nude is to be engulfed by a
nude.
To be engulfed by a nude is to be painted by a nude.
I am thinking of a nude. Not a generic nude or classic nude rather a specific nude yet not a particular woman. This is my nude. This is my ideal female form. This is the form that catches my eyes as she enters a room. This is the form of a woman who stops my forward motion as she walks a small dog toward me on the sidewalk of East Fifth Street. This is the figure of many of the women I find attractive. Yet, I realize that this nude is an ideal not a real woman. Elements of our being and thought seem to be circular and return to themselves after several permutations. How much of us is recursive and how much of us is new?
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