Wednesday, February 6, 2008

On Ken, My Artist Friend

Last night there was a no show for the model, and so all the artists sat around looking at the empty model stand for an hour or so, and then went home. No one even took out their pencils. One lady did play with some clay and make a little person. Ken and I loaded up our gear and drove out into the dark Snohomish plain, the windy road along the river, and we continued our conversation about the Catholic faith, Buddhism, and what another economic crash would mean. He said he was born in 1939 in Burien and had a dirt floor in his house. They were very poor, and his father would sometimes get food from the dump. He remembers being 5 and alone in the house when it suddenly filled with flying ants, everywhere, and on everything. But just as suddenly, they disappeared, and when his family returned, no one believed him, except his mother. Whom he described as the most contented person he ever knew, though she lived through some very hard times. He said, in regards to hard times, that he had no advice for younger people, as it was always different each time, and how it would go could not be predicted, though he had tried. He said he lived through 4 economic collapses. He said that yes, he had played a lot of chess in his time, and we could play, but he couldn't recall how all the pieces moved, or what they were called.

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