BLACKENED IN OBSCURITY
Unkempt, with parched wrinkled skin the color of rust, David Schoffman shows the wear of long nights in the studio. It has been his habit for many years to work as others rest, and sleep, only briefly, and only in the light of day.
He owns neither telephone nor computer, and those with whom he is in contact understand that he reluctantly welcomes visitors on Sundays only.
He prefers the company of writers and is particularly close to Janco Rasa, author of Sesso the Fool and Shapeshifters.
Once, after a long period of fallow inactivity, David tried to reverse his circadian meter, but failed miserably. The California sun’s brilliant luminescence and the unabating urban din confused him. It was the closest David ever came to madness.
Few have seen his new work, but countless rumors are circulating. Some have openly speculated that there is no work to be seen, that David hasn’t lifted a paintbrush in years and that his eccentric schedule is but a rueful dodge. Others think he is writing a memoir or drawing detailed maps of his native Canada.
In an interview last year in Hmm, David spoke elliptically about plans for an illuminated edition of Paradise Lost.
I think he is just flat out of ideas.
No comments:
Post a Comment