Please, don't speak when I'm making art or thinking about palettes with no greens, pigment granulation or studio space. I won't hear you. I'll deflect your conversation. Don't wait for me, I have no words.
After having been away from art for years, I'm back to it. And I'm finding that it unmoors me from directionality, taking me into myriad-threaded deltas of possibilities, from which a wildness spills over, even into talking or writing.
After having been away from art for years, I'm back to it. And I'm finding that it unmoors me from directionality, taking me into myriad-threaded deltas of possibilities, from which a wildness spills over, even into talking or writing.