"Old me, now. Staring in the evening with rubbed out charcoal eyes. Eyes that see thru the mirror and can read my mind through the marks my hand has made. Over time, the left one has behaved as if it knows what to say, at least it seems to get the first inklings of the form correctly.
I was seventy-four in June and can make up for what isn’t perfectly clear from me to me, speaking about all the experiences I’ve had and felt in as many particular qualities and features that register on my retina.
Age talks about how long a person has existed. These self-portrait drawings are about how many times, I’ve regarded my face minutely and have corrected and erased to get the feeling I want to show most accurately. I now am able, after all this looking, to enlarge my head to become a field of form and chatter and for it to be compared to a vast forest or a limestone quarry, for instance.
Finally, lying is not an option nor is decoration. I am committed to setting the record straight. Don’t worry, I will." (Jim Dine)