Anselm

 Dear Will:

Anselm Kiefer The Orders of the Night (Die Orden der Nacht), 1996, from Gagosian Quarterly

I'm almost sorry I called you in to watch the Anselm Kiefer movie with me. Wow. Talk about your European pacing! Wim Wenders is definitely not Errol Morris, though in this flic it seemed like he was trying to be, what with all the story telling parts coming out of screens within the screen.

But wasn't it interesting to find out how late we discovered the master? Not until 2003. Or was it 2006? I forget when and where it was that we went to a museum in either Scandinavia or Deutchland and had our first socks-being-blown-off experience of his work.

And weren't his gigantic workshops, as displayed in the film, fascinating? Ceiling high stacks of objects and stuff. But I thought it was sad sad how he wasn't smiling when he was setting fire to that one big painting. He should have been having fun. But he seems like a very serious creator who does nothing else but create.

But even though it wasn't that enjoyable as a film, I loved the section in Anselm where we saw SO MANY PAINTINGS! So many of those gigantic pictures. And so many so beautiful, not just meaningful. I may, in fact, fast forward through the film again just to watch those scenes again.

And remember finding that one giant picture in a gallery in San Francisco, priced at only 25 thousand?

As for Wim Wenders. Remember when I drove us to fucking Provo to see Kings of the Road? That would have been shortly after I graduated. Before or after I started at KWIK?  I can't remember. Nor can I remember the drive back to Salt Lake at 11 o'clock.  I'm sure we didn't try to go the all the way home after but now I can't remember whether we stayed with Rosemary or at the downtown Motel 6.  Before your dementia, I could have asked you and you would be able to tell me. You had such a great memory until you didn't.

I miss so much talking with you about art and movies. And just sharing our history of looking and watching. Our search for all the Caravaggios in Rome. Our hunt for all the Munchs in Norway and Sweden.  Whenever I think I might want a close relationship with another person, I think about how much life experience occurred in fifty years and realize it would be impossible for anyone to compare or adapt.

   "So I'll go to my grave lovin' you."