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Sometimes, as we gazed at Saint Sebastian’s Abyss, I would glance at Schmidt and see the eyes of a ghost.
Schmidt and I were obsessed with the use of light. We were also obsessed with the use of dark. We were obsessed with shadows. We were obsessed with open space and, at the same time, teeming space. We were obsessed with ambiguity, irony, and the intricacy of devotion, though not a religious devotion but a devotion to art, especially art that detailed the apocalypse.
I believe in art, Schmidt would say, I believe in oils and canvas and the inherent finitude of human expression