We’re not in touch with an external shared reality, what each of us is in touch with is our private internal interpretations of reality, a reality for subjective impressions, subjective impressions that arise from the interaction of our innate temperament with a superficial experience.
The assertion that the self resides solely inside of us is a lie… the self is a flowing projection of state, of story, and a relationship between the inner and outer world. The self is an accumulation of impressions, it is not a steadfast object, unmoving and unyielding, instead, it is open to reinterpretation through reexamination.
So many opportunities for light to enter… so many opportunities for growth.
I’m drawn to the arts not for its perfection, but instead for the innate qualities of its imperfections, it’s character, and it’s essence
The draw towards imperfection is rooted an attraction to the experience of decoding what’s being presented rather than relying on being told what is there.
It’s a preference that guides an aesthetic.
Studio note: I found a trove of old books that hit the college dumpster. Some books found their way onto our bookshelves, some found their way into the neighborhood library, and some gave up their blank pages to be used in studio exercises like this.