"I want to write about nothing", Marguerite Duras wrote at the end of her long and eventful life. I believe, no I'm actually totally convinced, any artist with strength, ambition and a trace of genius would change out write with paint; "I want to make paintings about nothing." Taste it. It tastes bitter sweet, like a dull sunset, like wind flowing through the dying and red vegetation of the of a southern landscape of Europe at Autumn. The change of seasons are abstract, the grid concrete, but Fall will drip colors like drops of paint on a canvas. It's out of our control, like abstract paintings ideally and potentially always were, and always will be. Hopefully.