Went back into the belly of Grand Central Station last night, just to make sure everything was still in place. The last few months of work are now materialized by large messages here and there and in other places.
I was told that somebody had “defaced” the work by placing antiwar stickers on it. I wanted to see that… no worry, just curiosity…
And the stickers were actually placed in nice locations, consistant locations, even with a certain sense of humor… and that was pretty nice… it was also nice to see that they were now an additional layer in the message…
And elements of one image become a vehicle for another image, which then becomes another vehicle, and so on… it took a lifetime for the location and the images to meet. And I will never know the entire story. And nobody will ever know the entire story. And I have the feeling that there is no such thing as “the” or “entire,” or “story.”
And 14 humans are born in an hour in New York, and I wonder how many are born in an hour in the world…
Layers upon layers upon layers upon layers.