Is that all there is?

Hi. I'm back. Kind of. Maybe. Am I here, was I ever?
I get existential sometimes.

So, grad school is over, I have the tenure job, and though I write, profess, and conference about art theory a whole lot these days, somehow I still don't think of myself as a critic. I'm more inclined to talk with artists about their work, in studio visits, over dinners, or just randomly. I like to think about art in relation to ideas, connecting recent and ancient commentary to the visual artefact. Plenty of people are correct in arguing with me that good criticism does these things. They are right. But this blog divests itself of such status. Let's call these musings on art, visual culture, life, the absurd, and whatever else strikes my fancy.

Time takes its toll on life and death came to Wooster, who died a couple years ago. The avatar pick doesn't work as well anymore. Now I am the loving caretaker of Izzy Marmalade, the Sweetest Existentialist Cat, also known as Don von BonBon, or Steve, who is a very charmingly sized orange fur mush. Death. Life. Like writing. It comes and goes. It dominates and then doesn't.

I'm not promising much here. I'm hoping to keep posting thoughts here mostly because I get randomly enthusiastic about seemingly depressing topics (I am told) and my friends don't necessarily want to hear about it. I see the whole world smoldering and think...is that all there is?