... I walk into the studio and the light dances up the walls and glazes softly over my canvas.
... I mix paint with such a fervor the whole room sings with the slap of my knives on a glass palette.
... I can't be bothered to find new music after an album ends, and work to the sound of brushes sliding over canvas and the rhythm of my own breathing.
... I wonder how I could possibly be hungry after I had just eaten lunch (and then realize it's after 11:30 pm).
I've started a new series. All at once it's familiar and foreign and fresh and bold and subtle. It's the combination of small slices of self-evaluation and the meshing of five separate ideas. It's full of messages, reminders to myself, spelled out for the world more clearly than I've ever worked.
I poured myself into eight square inches yesterday and created something that's looking back at me now.
I can't wait to show you.