January
January
It's been a quiet couple of months here--as quiet as quiet is with a home full of pets and kids and holidays and winter illnesses and all the daily happenings of family life...
What I mean by quiet, I guess, is that my artistic output has been a bit sparse. Maybe it's the general malaise of winter days. Or the feeling of having too much or too little to say. Or the fact that I've been waxing philosophical as of late, reexamining my life up to this point (could it be I've lived almost half my days?), feeling the irresistable pull of authenticity dragging me through the mire of what's comfortable and familiar into something that's brighter and darker and startlingly, embarrassingly new.
That all sounds rather vague and cryptic, and I suppose it is. But here I am, one small sojourner on this swirling, ancient planet, engaged in the ever-human search for truth, leaving a smattering of breadcrumbs along the way.
That's the thing about being an artist. You leave a trace. Bits and pieces of who you are, evidences of the metamorphoses of who you've been. Sometimes more or less honest than others.
And some days I'm okay with the openness and vulnerability of that existence. While other days, I just want to lean up against the comfortable trunk of an old, old tree and live out my days drenched in the dappled shade of quiet obsolescence.
All I know right now is that artistically, I long for simplicity. It's enough to record a moment, a snapshot, a small, but timely proof that I exist in this moment, exactly here.
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