Jenny holzer

Jenny Holzer was born in Ohio in 1950. She started out as an abstract artist, and after moving to New York City began working with text as art.

I'm feeling

A major lack of inspiration. 

I guess when the thing that inspired you most is gone you have a hard time finding it again.

I'll just keep looking.

You Are Not The Sun.

Settle baby, you are not the sun.

You are not the sun.

You are not the sun.

So let's pretend that you love me.

And to be my bait.

To be my bait.

The ice is getting thinner

We're not the same, dear, as we used to be. 

The seasons have changed and so have we.

There was little we could say, and even less that we could do to stop the ice from getting thinner

under me and you.

We bury our love in the wintery grave.

A lump in the snow was all that remained.

But we stayed by its side as the days turned to weeks

And the ice kept getting thinner with every word that we'd speak.

And when spring arrived we were taken by surprise when the floes under our feet bled into the sea and nothing was left for you and me.

We're not the same, dear, and it seems to me

There's nowhere we can go with nothing underneath.

And it saddens me to say.

But we both know, well, it's true.

That the ice was getting thinner under me and you. 

The ice was getting thinner

Under me and you.