Hard to get out of my funk so I’m working on past projects to finish them. So many.
It all feels easier in retrospect.
Love is the breeze as it whispers secrets to you about yourself and the world.
It’s really a beautiful place. The edges are rusty and sun kissed. Home.
All parts of one whole.
A universe of moments and clarity is this thing. Like the moon it is a bison in the distance. Not sure what it is made of. Could be cotton? Only the silliest imaginary beast imaginable. A cotton ball with a cow face.
These things are the clouds in the sky distancing the roof from being fixed but also the world the roof exists in.
Something simple but golden like a piano.
Óla my Galeras,
I’ve been thinking deeply since the virus hit. Making crazy art and trying to finish crazy art. The madness is strong. It’s the time available to spur my minds second thoughts. Madness.
The key parts I have understood in my process are to not take the inches as miles. The small moves are never noticed until you make 100 moves. So you have time to play around with colors and patterns and shapes. The love is in the details.
I keep playing with the idea of writing an art/ color/ texture philosophy book.
And it would all come together from my mind into the book. Maybe it’ll be a lot of things together kind of like me. A mixture of cultures and ideas. A cake of makings.
What do you think?