PH-246 - A.G. Runt

My cousin was killed when a semi truck drove into his work zone on the interstate. He was thirty years old—a journeyman replacing light bulbs on an electronic overpass sign. He had a wife and three kids; the youngest, a boy, was eight months old. 

In the Art Institute of Chicago hangs Clyfford Still's PH-246, a massive canvas painted almost entirely black. After my cousin was killed, his wife would post photos of him on social media, each with a black heart emoji. Clyfford Still didn’t name his paintings for fear of affectation. My cousin’s wife never worded her posts. Much like Still, she may have thought, What more needs to be said?


A.G. got detention in first grade for telling Hannah she had a nice shit-shirt. Her sweatshirt was brown. He talks how he talks. He writes that way, too.