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4:25 pm | 09 August 2004 | the foxes and Julian Schnabel TWO BAD THINGS (by way of explanation) the bus i rode to school had to go down a long nearby street to pick up another kid and then turn around and go back to the main road. in third grade one autumn monday the kids started shrieking and pointing out the old ratchety windows at something. off to one side of the cul-de-sac were four foxes that had been skinned and left in a pile. we went past them every day that week and for some reason i couldn't bring it up to my parents; it felt so scary and savage and diseased and horrible that i don't know but i think i thought that saying it aloud would mean that all the bad things i associated with it would be true. the week wore on and every day i was compelled to look at them decaying. i was unable to sleep and just cried at night. on friday finally i went into my mom's room at night and just cried "the foxes, the foxes." she had to call the DNR to go pick them up and i think she got the bus driver in trouble for driving past them every day with a load of little kids and not saying anything. the foxes are the worst symbol of human awfulness i can think of. a long time ago i said i would tell you about Julian Schnabel and his 1989-1990 paintings called THE BAD SEASON that say THERE IS NO MORE HORRIBLE PLACE ON THIS PLANET THAN A FOX FARM DURING FUR SEASON and i know they are about AIDS but i can't help but look at them thinking about my foxes, too. two years or so after the fox incident my dad and i were driving by a railroad track and there was a dead fox by the side of the road and her kit sat there staring at her body and crying. i pleaded with my dad to let us take it home, tame it, it would be a pet, etc., and he said "that's nature, that's what happens. it has to happen." i swear i am not trying to be macabre or dramatic but i am having a hard time explaining about the foxes. fuck. okay. so i would've liked Julian Schnabel anyway, because he's sort of weird and big and sexy and makes paintings with Bondo and broken crockery, and has this kind of Victorian Romantic heroism thing happening, which after all the cool advertorial indifference of 1950s-2000s art is amazing and visceral &c. he also directed Basquiat and Pollock and Before Night Falls, and is very talented in ways that are not all about spraying body-fluidy paints over broken surfaces, and his other work is very good too, but i am saying that 2000's "Kittens in Underpants" really doesn't have the soul-TKO punch for me that "The Bad Season" sure does. i've got more to say about Julian and more about foxes as well but here ends this weird, depressing entry. sorry! clm. unless otherwise noted, all work contained herein is � claudia sherman, 2002-04. |