Коллекционер

           Thathewasgoingtoletmego,even.

           Mad.

           Ihavetogivehimaname.I’mgoingtocallhimCaliban.

           Piero.I’vespentthewholedaywithPiero,I’vereadallabouthim,I’vestaredatallthepicturesinthebook,I’velivedthem.HowcanIeverbecomeagoodpainterwhenIknowsolittlegeometryandmathematics?I’mgoingtomakeCalibanbuymebooks.Ishallbecomeageometrician.Shatteringdoubtsaboutmodernart.IthoughtofPierostandinginfrontofaJacksonPollock,no,evenaPicassooraMatisse.Hiseyes.Icanjustseehiseyes.

           ThethingsPierosaysinahand.Inafoldinasleeve.Iknowallthis,we’vebeentolditandtolditandI’vesaidit.ButtodayIreallyfeltit.Ifeltourwholeagewasahoax,asham.Thewaypeopletalkandtalkabouttachismandcubismandthisismandthatismandallthelongwordstheyuse—greatsmearyclotsofwordsandphrases.Alltohidethefactthateitheryoucanpaintoryoucan’t.

           IwanttopaintlikeBertheMorisot,Idon’tmeanwithhercoloursorformsoranythingphysical,butwithhersimplicityandlight.Idon’twanttobecleverorgreator"significant"orgivenallthatclumsymasculineanalysis.Iwanttopaintsunlightonchildren’sfaces,orflowersinahedgeorastreetafterAprilrain.

           Theessences.Notthethingsthemselves.

           Swimmingsoflightonthesmallestthings.

           OramIbeingsentimental?

           Depressed.

           I’msofarfromeverything.Fromnormality.Fromlight.FromwhatIwanttobe.

           October18th

           G.P.