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The 2025 Summer Series begins today with IN THE LAND OF WHAT LITTLE'S LEFT OVER by Z. Schwartz (@regalmurk.bsky.social‬)!! Download your free copy here: ghostcitypress.com/2025-summer-...

primary colors in rough concert, but not discordant, a nice jagged harmony supporting the minimalist line work. well weighted, i think it all comes together

a quote i ripped off of a Geoff Dyer review of Denis Johnson, "control is achieved through a willing proximity to its loss," hooray, it's that

I'm also on Flashes now:

47 CANAL - Solo Show. Jay Carrier. January 9–February 15, 2025 Margot Samel - Solo Show. Leeroy Johnson January 10–February 8, 2025 Derek Eller Gallery - Solo Show. Joseph Olisaemeka Wilson. January 10–February 22, 2025 James Cohan Gallery - Group Show. Tofano, Shonibare, Dana Sherwood. January 10–February 22, 2025 Asya Geisberg Gallery - Group Show. Letha Wilson, Rose Nestler, Roxanne Jackson. January 11 – February 22, 2025 Jack Shainman Gallery - Solo Show. Nick Cave. January 10 – March 15, 2025 Templon New York - Solo Show. Francois Rouan. January 9 – March 1, 2025 Lincoln Glenn - Solo Show. Juanita Guccione. January 30 – March 15, 2025 Anna Zorina Gallery - Group Show. Soojin Choi, William Schaeuble. January 9 - February 15, 2025

recent nyc gallery/art walk, 2/8/25, chelsea and tribeca. most still open. names/dates in the alt text.

London, England.

proof I was in London for several days.

It is a fine, beautiful and lovely time of warm dusk, having perhaps just a touch too much enveloping damp; but nice, with its idle strolers, of whom I am one, and it's true, their capacity for good is limitless, you can tell. And then - ascending over the roofs, the budded tips of trees, in the twilight, very whole and official, its black markings like a face that has loomed in every city I have known-it arrives, the gigantic yellow warrant for my arrest, one sixth as large as the world. I'm speaking of the moon. I would not give you a fistful of earth for the entire moon, I might as well tell you. For across the futile and empty street, in the excruciating gymnasium, they are commencing-- degrees are being bestowed on the deserving, whereas I'm the incalculable dullard in the teeshirt here. Gentleman of the moon: I don't even have my real shoes on. These are some reformed hoodlum's shoes, from the Goodwill. Let me rest, let me rest in the wake of others' steady

Denis Johnson - "THIS IS THURSDAY. YOUR EXAM WAS TUESDAY."

in Ohio, at a distance, a man walks between two parking garages. Twelve or so windows line up above him in a geometrically appeasing manner. Most of the image is dark, negative space.

a small piece of ohio

Me and my buddies are biodegrading. Me and my buddies have decided to responsibly decompose. My buddies and I are part of a movement which is sweeping the nation. In light of recent events, me and my buddies feel that we may best serve our biome by breaking ourselves down in hopes of growing something better. Me and my buddies border on innumerable and are increasing in population all the time. Me and my buddies believe that no duty is more sacred and no vow more honorable. We - that is, my buddies, and, in addition, me - are parading around the outdoor supercenter wearing ribbons and beautiful jackets as we fill our carts with chemicals to aid decomposition and encourage moisture retention. Me and my buddies are so real you could reach out and touch us. We're statistically significant, my buddies and me. We are practically life sized. We are blowing in the wind. We are packed full of goodness and we can't wait to give back, we buddies. We contain essential nutrients and we are goin...

Max Lavergne, "ME AND MY BUDDIES."

uh, some guys, five figures, standing around, illustration, black and white, fairly abstracted figures. derivative line work influence by mid-century has-beens and corpses. not good

pals,

i pushed a button and pointed a box at this, having previously adjusted several dials relevant to its documentation.

met opera gallery, new york.

just want to crawl into a hole and diet. really get myself together in that hole, start eating right & exercising in a hole, in the ground

i went to the store but the store was closed.

i went to the store but the store was closed.

David Berman - From Cantos for James Michener: Part II CI. The jets move slowly through the sky like they'll never reach Denver or wherever they're going, and I have the feeling that people are high-fiving nearby, spontaneously, like a saloon brawl where everyone suddenly starts fighting as if each man has a preconscious knowledge of which side he's on when he enters a crowded room. And this fight starts with a Polish joke that a man at the bar begins to tell, but it's not funny as it concerns a stillborn child and an alcoholic slain by the last European wolf, and even after three hours there is no punchline in sight. When he reaches the part where a Polish scientist who has been navigating through millimeters of wilderness discovers sub-atomic temples in a rust sample, none of the men are listening, they are thinking about their own childhoods about the deep embarrassment of scoring on your own team and the view from falling behind.

David Berman - from Cantos for James Michener: Part II, "Actual Air" (1999).

neat defeat.