My friend the artist Doug MacWithey owned a huge, historic, three-story former Odd Fellows hall in Corsicana, Texas. Though the scale of his work was usually rather small, he was inspired by these immense old spaces . . . I think such spaces meant to him kind of endlessness. Historical and physical. Whatever concentrated, pared-away-to-almost-nothing bit of art he did, he wanted it to be endless. As if nothingness and endlessness depended on each other. Even some isolated scribble would, in his heart, belong to an endless series endlessly elucidating endless variations on its faint, essential self. And when, as toward the end of his life, a single thought took hold, he'd go with it, he'd crank it out (most times with a little xerographic help) with no intention of ever shutting down until some practicality, like death of course, intruded.