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A large man was found today on Sell Arts MarketPlace. An older man, age 60, with white hair and a dimple in his chin. He walks around Green Lane, PA as though he owned the place. If you hear him laugh, look out, it's huge and loud. He can be friendly, a bit off the wall type but he always, truly always, means well.
Born in 1949 just in time for the Viet Nam war, Cuban missile crises and a few laughs from The Not Yet Ready for Prime Time Players of Saturday Night fame he loves art. He loves the magic of art; he loves the magic. If anyone asked him, "Hey Al! What would you do with the rest of your life?" His answer would be:" Art, art and the magic of art". What a guy!
I do try to get out of the way when I shoot. The ego is a destroyer of beauty. When I do find my magic or allow the magic to find me, I taste, look, smell, wonder at the beauty of it all, say good bye, only momentarily, to Al Kukitz and enter the intuition of the shot.
I pierced the black violent veil of my soul. And the self proclaimed fool raised his right hand and sang the Oath of Horatti (the moral imperative, country before family) and blood oozed vehemence for the waste of lives in Nam. In the long hours, before a 100 years of the muse, I reaffirm my oath to the fallen: God rattles my soul with fear that i may know His Grace."
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