A low haze hugs the still early morning after rain.
The sup of earth. The sweat of leaf. The drip of final drop from tip and top of towered trees.
My skin absorbs the scent of spore, the musk of deer, the shine and wet of wood.
Here, where life begins and ends. With hoof and beat of wing, with brown-green dappled blue.
Here is where I most belong, with you.
I find myself as either or.
I am immersed in the open sea of my passions and love, or absorbed by a world of ideas.
I keep balance between these two great forces through my making.
Making is the fulcrum of my either or. The expression of my otherwise ordinary life.
I journey through the wilderness of creative discovery. It is the only way I know to remain, whole.
I have three choices: I can add something, take something away, or do nothing.
Painters add or remove pigment; potters add or remove clay; choreographers add or remove movement; photographers and digital artists add or remove light; music composers add or remove sound; writers add or remove words. At times the action is irreversible, unalterable, final.
When I consider any of my actions, I give or take, for doing nothing leaves me only as witness.