For me, the foremost attraction of old-school woodcuts (early 20th c.) is their complete absence of car chases, explosions, copulation, dumb-ass mayhem, and post-modern cliches generally.

The old-school wood cuts (and contemporary work, too) I occasionally look over at this hour are those where people live close to the land, and the land, generous, wraps its broad arms around their shoulders and fields, and the people, poor folk, live their day-to-day and always the earth provides, somehow.

Fantasy and cliche, of course, but that’s completely beside the point because fantasy and cliche is the stuff we’re made of, the stuff we eat and pass around and ask, More, please.

… and this lovely bird yet and its long journey beyond all sound and fury and self-medication …


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