
There is simply a photograph of Paul walking connected a tract and carrying a life-sized mentation of the cross. It appears to beryllium rather heavy, made of wood. It tin beryllium seen to remainder upon his shoulders.
This is determination successful Germany.
I slumber present connected a cot. I person giraffes implicit my thorax of drawers and determination are icons looking down astatine maine astatine rest.
It is simply a coincidence of things and objects that should not beryllium together. It is the tendency to bring the distant close, summon the absent to our contiguous place.
The days, they contention toward autumn, and my melancholy sets, these thoughts of parting and of death.
He is himself impassive, participating successful a process wherever determination is nary favoritism made betwixt himself and each the different things that present person recovered their place.
It is the scraps of connection that collect. This precondition for annihilating self.
I’m conscionable a mouthpiece for these bits I’ve conjured up and glued and acceptable to rest. I person recovered a antithetic assemblage borne by fish. And the shabby things are present becoming precious. Healing pieces of meat.
He volition enactment with what helium finds, an aged crate for bottles of milk, astir an antique, worn but somewhat fancy, that helium recovered astatine immoderate bazaar, made of larch, and the lid, helium went to the dumpster and helium recovered immoderate glass, small rectangular panes, a neighbor, it was a neighbor, helium saw it from his window, was a man, who threw them retired the nighttime before, and miraculously they remain, sharp-edged, intact, his fingers person been bleeding.
It is filled with unmailed letters, filled with pictures, filled with objects, filled with notes. He refers to it arsenic Shrine.
He takes it retired from underneath his bed, this crate, helium says, a crate for milk, wherever I incorporate my life, and reads, and for euphony we person the sea, oregon is it the bushed of the sea, the oversea I splatter implicit quality successful bluish and pink, and consciousness implicit my assemblage erstwhile I effort and stone myself to sleep. I kept this notebook with maine erstwhile I was successful Rome and past connected Ponza. Always connected Ponza. Look astatine the dates. This was successful 1973.
What I tin connection you, helium says, is the representation of religion I had arsenic a boy. What I tin connection you is thing that close present does not exist.
He remembers the religion of his puerility arsenic a peculiar spot wherever attraction was fixed to marque a beauteous world. He remembers the acheronian and the flicker of the candles and the incense and the beeswax, smelling it successful the air. He remembers the bid and the passionateness of the liturgy, each those seemingly elemental quality gestures, the processions.
His dependable is precise beauteous and helium whispers things sometimes to maine successful an aside.
I sang successful church. I was successful the choir. I particularly enjoyed the Easter songs that I could sing, though sometimes my dependable would break, and I would person to leave.
This is the epigraph, I archer him, I’ve selected for the piece.
Regardless of my ain beliefs and my ain doubts, it is my sentiment that creation mislaid its basal originative thrust the infinitesimal it was separated from worship. It severed an umbilical cord and present lives a sterile life, generating and degenerating itself.
In erstwhile days the creator remained chartless and his enactment was the glory of God. He lived and died without being much oregon little important than different artisans: “eternal values,” “immortality,” and “masterpiece” were presumption not applicable successful his case. The quality to make was a gift.
In specified a satellite flourished invulnerable assurance and earthy humility.
These are the words, I archer him, of the Swedish theatre and movie director, Ingmar Bergman.
Paul tells maine that helium met him once. I was with Karl Johansson. They knew each different from a film. Karl did immoderate stills for Winter Light. He was a small pompous, though not wholly unkind. I was grateful. He came to spot my amusement astatine the Museet.
This is from a missive to Olle Granath for the show, dated September ’71.
On oregon astir Swedish Christmas, for a play of 1 week, delight person 12 ample candles burning successful the chickenhearted coop. Also – sticking done the chickenhearted ligament delight instrumentality sections of orange, caller effect oranges – and those oranges should beryllium replaced erstwhile needed.
We are lasting connected the tenement rooftop. He shows maine the bottoms of his feet and they are dirty. He has planted a plot here. It has been immoderate years, helium tells me. He started it with idiosyncratic else. A friend, helium says. I inquire him who. Fenrir was his name. He says he’s dead. He was Norwegian. He got sick. But it is increasing now. I archer him I bask the flowers. I amusement him the microphone and inquire him to talk up. He looks down again and astatine his feet, and retired beyond the roofs. I americium signaling this, I archer him, for the interview. And it volition look adjacent year, I say, successful ARTSYMPOSIA. And I repetition that this volition alteration things. People person forgotten you but aft this appears they won’t forget. He laughs and points distant and toward the twins. He calls them Sodom and Gomorrah, rising up successful solid and alloy to blot the sky. He tells maine helium has painted them before. On newspaper.
I inquire him astir his paper paintings.
This is from a missive written conscionable a period ago. It is addressed to Franz Deckwitz.
I lone privation to bash BAD paintings, to daze and wounded them here, etc etc, but it hurts MY tone ALWAYS to bash the atrocious paintings, truthful I miss Ponza. I miss eternity.
When I travel successful helium takes a yellowish notebook retired of Shrine. He opens it to a drafting of a phallic caput successful bluish and achromatic beneath a date: June 19th 1969. Here I wrote astir my archetypal brushwood with the poesy of Ezra Pound. “The River-Merchant’s Wife.” The Pisan Cantos. I person chosen a twelve copies of his New York Times obituary arsenic the crushed for this caller piece. It is simply a coating and it is besides successful blue, besides successful yellow, besides successful white. Pound excessively believed successful Paradise. Before helium was imprisoned, helium believed that he’d been touched by God.
I inquire him astir his environments.
I privation to contiguous an ambiance – an ambiance – which is truthful peaceful that you’re shattered erstwhile you leave.
This is from a missive to Olle Granath, dated 9th of December 1971.
I would precise overmuch similar besides that the wrong of the pyramid should beryllium kept reasonably clean, particularly the table. And the napkins should beryllium white.
We spell again downstairs. I beryllium beside him connected the bed. He tells maine helium is already tired. I tin spell a small much and past that’s it. At slightest for today.
I crook the recorder connected again.
Tell maine astir your mother.
My parent was a poet, oregon rather, she sometimes wrote a poem. Her lips were usually bedewed with portion and the poems usually rhymed. They were ne'er happy. She work maine Finnegans Wake erstwhile I was six. She liked the puns and each the curse words. She’s got a crab present you know. In the gut. I visited her past week and watched the caregiver region her filthy drawers. She calls the full happening “shit.”
But really, it’s an ark. That’s what I’m building. Cages into lilies. Mice. And ever determination are fish. Bits. Cut glass. Prayer. I americium clutching a pencil. A concussion of waves. Light. This is an interior, a liturgical space. It is an offering.
Just a note: Much rushing arsenic time I americium disconnected to Rome again. Everything present is conscionable astir finished present that the Stedelijk is down. The Mickery amusement volition beryllium up each summertime and it is, I think, and mostly owed to the pear tree, the prettiest I’ve ever done.
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From Shrine: A Little Book About Paul Thek by V.H. Wildman. Used with support of the publisher, Red Nun Collective. Copyright © 2026 by V.H. Wildman.


























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