Space is all one space and thought is all one thought, but my mind divides its spaces into spaces into spaces and thoughts into thoughts into thoughts. Like a large condominium. Occasionally I think about the one Space and the one Thought, but usually I don't. Usually I think about my condominium.
The condominium has hot and cold running water, a few Heinz pickles thrown in, some chocolate-covered cherries, and when Woolworth's hot fudge sundae switch goes on, then I know I really have something.
(This condominium meditates a lot: it's usually closed for the afternoon, evening, and morning.)
Your mind makes spaces into spaces. It's a lot of hard work. A lot of hard spaces. As you get older you get more spaces, and more compartments. And more things to put in the compartments.
To be really rich, I believe, is to have one space. One big empty space.
I really believe in empty spaces, although, as an artist, I make a lot of junk.
Empty space is never-wasted space.
Wasted space is any space that has art in it.
Andy Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (1975: 143)
