In accounting terms, it's what's called capital expenditure and maintenance -- not a one-time transaction, but a periodic expense from which I realize a return on my investment.
Looking back at it now from my perch, it was a horrific chapter or two in my 20s; my professional social circle in L.A. suffered from a kind of loyalty anemia, which I realized only afterward.
And in my backyard, Montmartre, which I realized I didn't know well at all.
Which, I realized, is also my skin.
"There's something to me about proposing a clean slate for the future by looking at this slate from the past, which I realize is quixotic and foolhardy — nevertheless, that's why we're here to make art, to propose an alternative path".
I look up from my Pepper Grinding, which I realize I may have been doing just a tad overzealously while fixating on all the shit I have to do.
Which, I realize, is an extraordinary privilege.
Which I realize wasn't fair.
After I started taking photographs from which I would make my paintings, I realized that the photograph already does it.
So I took to bed, from which vantage I realized I really did not like the carpet — the colors were gloomy, it darkened the room.
They provoke me, I realized, because they are, despite the distance from which I observe them, an amplified version of me.
