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Orange for Frank O’Hara One day I am thinking of School: The Art Students League, I write a line about the halls. I have never seen the halls of the League. So I write about the windows, the mortar, the staircases. I cover the stairs with cigarettes. Days go by. More cigarettes. I am a real smoker. Suddenly it is 1970 and I have been there seven years. I am painting. I am winning scholarships. My teacher Edward Laning gets exhibitions. I get more paint. I make a painting so big it comes in four wooden parts. One day it ends up in an exhibition. But the gallery put the pieces together wrong. I call it Puzzled. Though the way it is put together, it could be an orange, too. |
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