March 19, 2021 - Intention.

Walking up the Lower East Side’s Orchard Street through the rain last night, I heard a man call out a refrain from across the street: This isn’t Instagram. This is Orchard Street. He kept saying it, over and over again. I couldn’t see him; he must have been standing behind one of the outdoor-dining cabins along the street –––– along Orchard Street. I wasn’t even sure who he was talking to, if anyone at all. He just kept saying it. This isn’t Instagram. This is Orchard Street. Which was true.

On Wednesday evening I had a call with Adrian and after a while our conversation drifted ––– as it often does ––– toward the purpose of art, as well as the criteria for strong art. Interesting, we agreed, should be replaced by evoking an emotional response. And convenience, without question we decided, can’t serve as the impulse that leads to quality artwork. With these ideas in mind, we asked each other: if the idea is to go beyond convenience, while also surpassing interesting, then what vehicle, if any, is best for navigating these differences and crossing over this bridge?

Intention, we decided, intention. First we thought we’d make it the word of the day; then we realized it should be the word of the year (and beyond). Intention. The word kept buzzing through my mind last night as I was walking up Orchard Street and listening to the voice of the man who I could not see repeat ––– again and again ––– his creed: This isn’t Instagram. This is Orchard Street.

Later that night, as I was home again, I kept reflecting on my walk up Orchard Street and considering the words of the man who I could not see. At first I thought something like this: being intentional with Curlew Quarterly means creating a journal that the gentleman on Orchard Street would want to read.

It took me another hour or so, along with the viewing of a film from 2002, Max, to see the whole picture. Evidence of the fact that Curlew Quarterly is made with intention would not mean that this man –––– who was, whether he knew it or not, adamantly speaking out against art that’s made for pure consumption –––– and without any intention ––– would like or enjoy C.Q. No. Intention means that with his blessing –––– our pages would carry his words, his wisdom, and his truth. If I could find him, I would thank him.