The risk of experimentation isn’t prompted by success but by the desires for discovery.
Some days are like this. It’s strenuous to scribble words into sentences. We write them anyway.
In the process of searching for the words, and guiding them from my head to the page, the pictures arrive.
Maybe art is an external attempt to touch our deepest secrets, the secrets that we don’t even know are there.
Sometimes working with the stray marks and the brush strokes that go awry open us up to new creative possibilities.
This is an attempt to get back to the dangerous ideas, and maybe that’s a dangerous idea in itself. I hope that it is.
Outside forces are vying for a chance to rid us of our peculiarities. We need rituals that remind us of our strangeness.
The process isn’t perfect but, no process ever is. Often, the best solution is simply working towards “successively closer approximations”…
When you look for things to be grateful for, you find them, often in the most unexpected places and in the strangest of forms…
What if it’s all the various “pieces” that make up a piece of art that are the real ‘masterpieces”? And what if we treated them that way?