So, to abandon yourself to the unknown of the doing—is all that's left, only the reflection of the passing of time—but sharply visible—made so—as this act of making is lived out.—And—then you move into the next, like a strange and new clock, warping Time into becoming a frightening new other place, a land in which there is no rock and no "nothing." What is there—then? There is only the next doing which leads only to the next doing. A lifetime of doing?

Philip Guston