White Bread

"White on White" by Kazimir Malevich (1918)

There are no dearth of conflicted souls. Hamlet is tortured by inaction, Lear by vanity and pride, Othello by jealousy, Oedipus by the awful truth, Antigone by righteousness and shooting ahead another two or three thousand years,  Beckett’s Nell and Nagg by the condition of the garbage cans in which they reside. BTW the two garbage cans bring back Plautus and Roman comedy where identity is the source of the farce. Has there ever been a play or work of art where nothing is wrong and the days pass with characters uttering only the dreadful “I can’t complain.” What about a Strange Interlude about two boring people who come home pop something in the microwave and watch the news. These folks don’t live lives of quiet desperation. Caveat emptor! You can write about boredom but you can’t be boring. Maybe the art of the happy but static existence culminating in a peaceful death is the mandate of the painter.

Answer of the day: "Knock fucking knock, if you don't answer I'm going to knock down the door."