My work hollers at me, i hear it
loud + clear. My work lives as thoughts. i have collected these thoughts over the years,
categorizing them, comparing, + taking notes on the notes.
i nail them down w/ colorful glass-head pins, spread open on the cork board parading w/ other though-captives + notice that some of them still twitch.
They question me;
If i shape a work perfect,
exactly what i want — if i EVER manifested the artwork perfect — would i be afraid to try again?
