Last night, I was spellbound by the new American Masters documentary on Eva Hesse. I stared at the screen for the entire 1.5 hours as if I was meeting the sister I wasn’t told I had. Her joy, fearlessness, devotion to living her artistry, and obsession with the uncanniness, the ephemerality of being, was awing.
The documentary is already available for streaming. I want to live in it again, stop the stream on particular works of hers whose representation passed too quickly.
I want to transcribe what she wrote in her journals that became voiceover in the video. I want to write to that.
