Letter to John Part VIII

Here is the last part of a letter Devin sent me in 1986. That's all, Fokes!

Letter to John Pt. VII

Part seven of a letter Devin sent me in 1986.

Letter to John Part VI

Here's part VI of a letter from Devin.

Letter to John Part V

"The aftercreation may all be chemical." "Early man killing a cube." This is part 5, though page three, of a letter that Devin sent me in 1986 or so.

Letter to John Part 3 and 4

Two years ago to this day, Devin passed away. This is another page of a letter he sent me in 1986 or so.

Letter to John Part 1 and 2

Here are the first couple parts, all on one page, of a letter that Devin sent me, probably in 1986.

I Was Here Pt. 5

This is the last page of five pages that were a letter that Devin sent to me in 1986, It's all about having a piece of paper and drawing something on it because there was paper and there were a couple pens and there was an envelope to put it in. After two pages of just black ink on paper one of the colors featured in the first two pages has returned. There is no yellow, just orange. But the orange does make a nice comment on the black lines and words.

The five pages of this letter were just a sign that he was there, in that place, at that time, and that he could make marks to say something about being there and let me know because I was a thousand miles away.

I Was Here Pt. 4

Here is part 4 of a letter I got from Devin in 1986, I think. In the previous installation, he realized that he could draw on the other side of the piece of paper. So he did. Through the years, in my basement storage, the paper somehow turned translucent, so when he drew on both sides of the piece of paper, both sides came through at the same time. There are faces in there somewhere, but everything is melting, merging, falling into just a series of horizontal lines, falling to the words, some empty horizons.

I Was Here, Pt. 3

Here is the third in a series of drawings and writings that came to me in a letter from Devin probably in 1986. Here he discovers that he can write on both sides of the paper. The face is a box and the lines are twisted as if there was space to be filled and something had to fill it. I see some script and a profile, some attempts at language and expression in the marks on the left side. Not only does Devin realize that he can draw on both sides of the paper, he demonstrates this just by drawing, just by marking it up. He's spewing out his guts in lines because there is a blank sheet of paper and something has to go on it, something has to deface that other side.

I Was Here Pt. 2

Here is the second page in Devin's letter to me, an adventure in color and words and images in several parts.

I Was Here, Pt. 1

This is the first page of a comic that Devin sent me in a letter when he was in Minneapolis and I was in Bozeman. The paper had gotten wet over the years and that made the front and back fade kind of nearly into each other, which just adds to the mystery and confusion of the whole thing. Faces fade in and out and battle with the text. Yellow and orange, like flame, like the lines, like flame.

Do You Remember the Winter of '81?

Here's an envelope collage the Devin made for a letter he sent me. It's cold outside in these days of approaching Trumpreich and I keep on thinking about what Devin would have made of the election of Donald Trump. It is something beyond the wildest parody. Here is a relic of a tasty hot tomato soup lunch and wondering if we remember a winter that would have been five or six years ago when Devin sent that letter. I don't think I can recall much of what the winter was like five years ago. It was probably cold in parts.

Devin Envelope Art

Back in the 1980's, before there was email or any other electronic forms of communication, when we all began going in different directions (and then sometimes the same directions), we kept in touch with the U.S. Postal Service. We wrote letters to each other and those letters included words and drawings and things that we would cut out and things that we would collect, so every few weeks we would all get a little bit of each other in an envelope in our mailbox and that was always such an indescribable moment. You could see and feel that person in that paper, in those marks, in the gum that had to be licked to seal the envelope. It was like that person was whispering to you from far away, and you could almost feel their breath on your hair it was so close and so intimate. Try doing that with email.
This is the envelope of a letter I received from Devin after he moved to Minneapolis and when I was still in Bozeman. His triangle glasses artist character is laughing and I was probably giggling when I opened it up because inside would be some magical bit of Devin that had floated all the way from the metropolis to my basement apartment in the Bozone and it was all for me to read and look at and read and look at and puzzle over again and again. And then it ended it up in a box in my basement thirty years for me to rediscover, damp and discolored, a couple months ago. And then the magic, that bit of Devin, that voice and that breath, could once again giggle like a boat on the water, and I'd feel it and almost see and hear it.

Even John Doesn't Know What It Is

Here I am looking quite confused at something that Devin has put in my way. Confusion is central in Devin's work, and this glob of lines and shading and squiggles that might be Death moving a chair or might be a maze that confused itself into surrender is certainly a significant object of confusion.

Comfy Crucy

This is one that really needs no comment. It was in a letter Devin sent to me and there was some water damage so you can see the other side of the paper in some spots. "Crucifixion doesn't have to be a bummer any more." I especially like the reading lamp.