I feel like I’ve written here before about how art is a catalyst, but I’m not feeling compulsive enough to track back to earlier posts to confirm or deny. It’s evident to me that a big reason I am in the world has to do with art: art-making, art-talking, other artists, art-loving. But sometimes it strikes me how art is both the seed bomb and the guerrilla garden, both the question and the answer, the reason we get up in the morning and why we come home. I’ve felt word-challenged and so dead tired for the past month-plus, and still art shows up for me, as my companion and mute expression as well as a guide.
Detail of Star Map, 2017