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Pollock 
Lee Pollock 7 
about the garden when he said: I'll dig it and set it out if you'll a water and weed." He took great pride in the house. One of the reasons for our move to Springs was that Jackson wanted to do sculpture. Your know, it was his original interest in high school and art school. He often said: One of these days I'll get back to sculpture." There was a large junk pile of iron in the backyard he expected to use. 
     He would get into grooves of listening to his jazz records---not just for days---day and night, day and night for 3 days running until you thought you would climb the roof! The house would shake. Jazz? He thought it was the only other really creative thing happening in this country. He had a passion for music without being realy musical. He had trouble carrying a tune and although he loved to dance he was an awkward dancer. He told me that when he was a boy he bought himself a violin expecting to play on it immediately. When he couldn't get a sound out of it, he smashed it in a rage. 
     He was secure in his work. In that he was sure of himself. But I can't say he was a happy man. There were times when he was happy of course. He loved his house, he loved to fool in his garden, he loved to go out and look at the dunes, the gulls. He would talk for hours to Dan Miller, the grocery store owner, he would drink with the plumber or the electrician, those kind of off-beat friends. But he would rarely talk with artists. 
     It is a myth that he wasn't verbal. He could be hideously verbal when he wanted to be. Ask the people he really talked to: Tony Smith and me. He was lucid, intelligent; it was simply that he didn't want to talk art. If he was quiet, it was because he didn't believe in talking, he believed in doing. 
     There is a story related to this about Hans Hoffman. It was terribly embarrassing to me, because I brought Hoffman to see Pollock. Hoffman