I’ve been thinking “in Rothko” lately.I find myself stuck on Rothko’s “pockets of silence” idea, though less in the context of art and more in terms of the information-abundant and creatively productive world many of us choose to live in.
I am a terrible surfer. Actually, I’m no surfer at all. But I like to pretend that one day, I’ll be able to get the hang of the entire thing, successfully surf a few waves and live to talk about it. It’s not for lack of trying. I have attended classes on beaches in the two hemispheres. In fact, I already have a “pattern”: I do well during the fake surfing part on the beach – that’s when you learn some basic moves and get your positioning adjusted by the