Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about the threads that pull seemingly disparate pieces of my work together. Whilst I may have an idea going into something the sheer nature of arting/playing means that the result isn’t always an intended one. I see value in and enjoy the process of exploring an idea, a theme, a medium. a technique. It just doesn’t always got to plan.

Just like now with this post, I’m already off on a tangent diverting from my initial thrust.  (I’m actually thinking of getting someone to interview me about my art and recording the session to see where my brain takes me that usually my fingers are too slow to capture. This, I see, is a parallel idea to the Hemingway “Write Drunk. Edit Sober” quote/misquote,)


I’m thinking about the ideas of uniqueness. Fingerprints, how they relate to contours, landscapes, landscapes of the female body. Also our eyes, doorway to our soul(?) their unique colours and patterns. Surely we don’t refer to them as eyescapes. Looking at leaves, they all have a ‘scape’. 

There’s actually not too much to write about this cause mostly it’s still trapped inside my head, tangled, arse over tit.

Just so you know, I really like it when people comment here rather than just a FB like. To me, it feels like you’ve actually read it.
I’m guilty of this behaviour also. I’m trying to change. Unless, I’m stalking you – then I read but not comment.

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