Text by Madeleine Marie Slavick. For two hundred minutes we are waiting, and still, the eleven year old has not come. In ten more minutes, I say I will telephone the hospitals, maybe the police. One serving stays at the table, and her room as empty as the night road upon which a car is supposed to deliver her home. We try one more time. Just as we look in her room again for the misplaced phone number, the headlights come down the gravel driveway.

We will feature 10 of the most innovative submissions in a.

Spontaneous conversations with international artists and influential members of the art community are recorded and documented specifically for publication on this blog.

The book is thick as a brick and 1200 pages long. Eventually it will be impossible to close and will then lie supine upon some table or shelf, g.