I wrote this poem about the transcendental joy of creating art – and meaning – from handmade paint:
Reflections on “The Gift” (1983) by Lewis Hyde.
I do not feel that – on my own – I necessarily have very much to add creatively or intellectually to the live tradition that is already in the air. In one way or another, it has already been said, written, done, articulated. The stories have already been told, and in a sense, all I… Continue reading The tasteless water of souls
Transcendence through art
I’m weird. I like to look at a beautiful blank book, feel the unwritten pages, smell the fresh leather of the cover, and imagine the possibilities that lie within those pages. But once the ink touches the paper, and words are coerced into existence from the ether of the subconscious, meaning (or the semblance of… Continue reading Creative journeys