People, images and events have been conspiring to remind me that I'm an artist, and coercing me to pull out half-made, neglected things.
And so with gratitude to all of them, I gather materials and visuals around me, set a chair near the window, and get back to work.
Coincidentally, I happen to be preoccupied by the same thoughts as when I started this piece a few years ago: boundaries, borders, language, miscommunication, violence, failure to understand, stalemate.
