So I’m working on all these pieces trying to cultivate a masterpiece. It feels almost impossible but the unattainable is the goal of all master artists. I feel like I’m learning so much from just doing these days and building in my mind as well. Nothing is my stopping point but me. There are hard steps but I’m choosing to walk into them with my head high and my shoulders back. There will be changes and reflexive reactions. the beast is my nature and my nature is the chaos of being creative. No soul knows everything but good planning leave little for mistakes and forgiving yourself to make mistakes painting leads to our right brilliant brush strokes.
Much of me loves the night sky and the wonder of everything but the other half feels most alone as the world sleeps. It to me is the role a painter in the world. It’s magical ,and shit all at once. The fall is the hardest I feel. Something about it is just sad in the darkness. Nothing is awake and the last bits that are are packing up to leave for Winter. Gloomy but honest like a shotgun gun in the silence of the open ocean pointed at the moon.