Loss of consciousness.

I wrote an expansive, eloquent, expose on abstract artwork and then I deleted it.

Isn’t that the way our modern brains function. We take in the information, and with a click of a button, a lock screen gone black, another ad, we have lost most of what we could have held onto.

I feel like my body and brain are craving the less cabled, unharried, unhurried way I operated as a kid. When there was curiosity over completed tasks, finding myself in the flow, perusing over pursuit, practice over perfection, knowing that I was on the path to discovery.

Art demands curiosity. All of it. Which chord comes next, which color, which note, word, to convey the mystery of the human experience? How will it be interpreted? How softly should this be said, how strongly should this be played? I love leaving room for it. So I am going to have to get comfortable with the empty space, and the refilling of my heart and mind with presence, and practice, and pursuit.