Review for Steven Wright’s Harold

It inspired me that he wrote a book. Reading it is an entirely different matter. I look forward to that.

I just read an interview of Steven Wright about his accidental new book titled Harold. When I write these paragraphs, I use at least three sentences. I imagine, in addition to composition, Harold has mastered tone, that, to his fans, at least, in his voice he uses as stagecraft, his deadpan voice comes through as clearly as Faulkner does without a voice. This extra sentence drives home the main point. Not because it’s the right thing to do, but because I am curious what I’ll write.

I should probably do another Steven Wright QR code painting. “It’s a small world, but I wouldn’t want to paint it.” I don’t have choices like that anymore, so I’m down. I’m all about simplicity.

I wonder if it’s because he’d spontaneously start painting and get it all over his clothes. Sometimes I rush to paint without putting on a shirt I use as a a smock. I have spells when I just start wearing the same two or three outfits that have paint on them. I just don’t worry about it.

It gets complicated when your brushes are trashed. I used feathers, rags, my hands, paper, knives, beaded necklaces, sponges, lace, sliced vegetables, but nothing you need to switch on.

It’s quiet. The paint gets on everything. In the silent movies, before the Talkies, there was a cat an an organ smoking a cigarette and drinking warm gin playing the score. Some organs had sound effects like bells, rattles, and such. Organs made for silent movie houses are still useful when I read books.

All of my paintings are rated highly by noise-cancelling device makers, or at least the long-standing absence of complaints is growing more conspicuous by the hour. The paintings say so much, but you never hear them. It’s too distracting.

So, as far as I can tell, there aren’t many reviews of Steve Wright’s book Harold yet.

Painting is a terrible way to make a living, but living is a great way to make a painting. When I finally read Harold, when I get paid and find a way to buy a used copy online, I am completely prepared to receive the book and smell it when I flip the pages. The newer books still carry a bit of the aromatics from the fresh adhesives. Never mind the pigments of my imagination.

If Harold doesn’t have that new book smell, it wouldn’t be the same. But, I already read an interview about the book, so any ideas I have are swimming in that memory when I read it. I will read in my painting studio because it’s quiet there.

So, I’ll read the book, reflect, and I’ll have an idea and I’ll turn it into a QR code, but not just any old QR code. No sir. No sir, E. Bob. My code will be made from paint applied with unusual objects to the canvas of ships unsailed. From Nantucket. On the oceans flowing in time through your walls. Upon the waves.

I have three 10”x12” canvases for such an endeavor. The other two canvases will try not to relate to Harold or the previous Steven Wright QR code. I can’t control interpretation, so that’s sort of the point. To just not worry about the sublime. Just sturdy code and ineffable light.