I dreamt the University of Minnesota held a symposium of serial killers and Joseph Beuys gave the key-note address.


I am here today to talk about social sculpture.

We must begin with the wound. A wound of sufficient depth [gravity] that it is a matter of resurrection rather than healing.

Every nation has the artists it deserves.

Democracy is fun [merry].

The road to utopia is messy. It is littered with many innocent [indifferent] corpses.

The cut worm forgives the plow.

Honey turns to sand.

The difference between lead and copper is superficial.

I am not speaking of blood-lust but of a concern for the flesh of a nation.

It does not take so [too] long for shadow to turn to bone.


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