ジョシュ・ブローリンのインスタグラム(joshbrolin) - 11月16日 00時00分

131 years ago today she was born. I’ve been alive 50 and of those 50, I’ve spent maybe 35 of those years with her paintings and her writings swimming in me. I spent my twenties walking through her dry wash dipped emotional deserts and, also, under New York’s potpourri of concrete looking skywardly through her painter’s eyes at that cartooned moon or perhaps a window blown out with a raging light. Or maybe it was later, on her Ghost Ranch, when Kathryn and I took it all off and strolled over the reddest butte dust and rattlesnake rocks imagining the map of her face, that face that only got more beautiful with age, thinking of branches and how they might dress a bare skull against her modest bone white home so lovely. She made flowers sensuous and desertscapes like floating blood-colored rainbows. And now, on our own ranch, I find her this morning, as I sit at my desk looking out at the dinner bell hanging from a lone narrow oak, wondering who takes the time to listen to the silent philharmonic anymore. #happybirthdaygeorgia #artineverything

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