Artistic Practice is a relationship. (An ongoin poem)

I consume information, ideas, philosophy. I remember devouring Gaston Bachelard Poetry of Space, I couldn’t stop gorging my eyeballs, I was walking around with my family, supposed to be playing with my children, but I just kept reading and regurgitating these words.

This information, all the ideas, and so many, so mixed up are like compost, they feed my process, they make up everything that goes into the work. Broken eggshells, and parsnip peelings, coffee grounds and kiwi skins.

Julia Margret Cameron was this young girls heroine. Her life, an ability to ignore expectations. To follow her own road, regardless of when she started, what sex she was, she just kept going, head down and pedal. Her own road, her own unique aesthetic, leading the way.

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