I ponder on the nature of inhibition and how the expression of love is often constrained in public.
In a long and warm exchange I witness someone with severe special needs hold, then kiss the hand of a person who helped her. The person who kissed seems far closer to happiness than those who are harnessed by social timidity. Their generosity overcame the hesitancy of love that often confines our interactions. When I restrain myself for the sake of what others may think or judge, I limit my love.
I frequently come across ideas masquerading as art. All too often this 'art' presents a simple thought that hides behind the rhetoric of a 'personal artistic vision'. In truth these ideas are often no more than undeveloped, embryonic concepts.
Thoughts are the stuff of dreams, and their value is incalculable, but they do not in themselves cross the boundary into becoming or being art...
A single line of thoughts is expressed here each day.
After three years I return to what I think of as the start. As with all beginnings it is dependant on a time before. The first of anything requires I know it as new, and to know as new I need to know my past.
What I and you may feel as fresh may be felt by another as familiar.
When making art of any kind, I reuse, I make new. My every start: abundant with what has come before.