Michael Straus on Dan Flavin

Judd’s own diagonals –
cut/lines deep into wood, woodcut prints to become,
slanting obliquely into the wood’s own space, dividing it –
a foil for the open silences of Flavin’s alternate,
his counterpoint homage,
endless light waves that roll on past space
fluorescent flows flicked on with a switch
the lack of artifice in bulbs and fixtures plucked from Canal Street
stuck together on the wall, plugged in, illuminated
yes
even now drawn seven years later,
signed, titled and dated,
yet
with nothing more deeply written than cuttingly simple instructions
cool white/daylight –
except of course for that material name, Judd,
earth-rooted, metallic
yet
not so much stern as formally pure –
yes
of course
well of course
they were friends.