I Turn The Work In On Time, And I Mean It.

Phew. That last post was supersizedly humorless. Let's let some air in the room. It's freezing, but the sun is out with a vengeance, and for some reason birds are chirping like four dozen thirteen-year-old girls on a Skittles high outside my apartment, I'm hearing only birds--no sirens, no homeless guys searching for glass bottles in our trash, no truck rumblings, no bus wheezings. This astounds me. And so does this quote, heard on NPR this morning from Mark Morris, one of my favorite people making Art.

My Mac won't let me listen to the piece again, but I'm pretty sure
the quote is more or less verbatim, though I might have left out two or three nouns. It came right after the reporter described his work ethic and renaissance-man approach:

"I'm a dancer, choreographer, conductor, a bon vivant, I turn the work in on time, and I mean it."

I love that this is a guy making what most people would agree is Art, as in everything he does is one for the ages, and this is how he describes his M.O. No nonsense, no mystification, no apologies, with a little self-love and self-irony thrown in at the bon vivant part. I can think of quite a few writers and musicians and filmmakers who wouldn't dare cut the crap this way. Anyway, I think I want this on my tombstone: She Turned The Work In On Time, and She Meant It.