I can imagine Baldessari, a man who lit his entire body of
work on fire and watched it burn to ash, writing each letter of that
phrase deliberately, reiterating the promise to himself with every stroke of his pen.
I have been thinking of those words recently, and of Baldessari’s impulse to torch everything that he had done but was not proud of.
Confession: I have made boring art. Probably you have, too. You felt it, right? That moment when you can go through the motions and know someone else will say “Good job!” but you aren’t going to have a deep and lengthy conversation about it later.