It has been said, and I perfectly agree, that there is a deep and romantic sense of urgency about my work. At times, I feel as if that if I don’t get IT out or HAVE it in that moment, a part of me will die. This NEED, this catalyst, will cease to exist and an opportunity for something outside of the ordinary will have been lost. Also in all of my curiosity, I am often functioning at a level match to someone with ADHD, easily distracted, thoughts running amok in my mind, fleeting, escaping, gone.

   My writing mimics this in a similar yet individual way. There is a fluidity and quickness about my writing, for this particular blog, I edit very little. I have left my words as raw and fresh as possible, allowing for the new experience of exposing some clarity from within. My painting is reaching new levels of this, my tempo is quite rapid, my need to get it out, has been coming with increasing frequency, and the subjects and style is repetition of the internal rawness and freshness I have been feeling.

Within all of this, I have found that winter is a place for introverts, and inside of it; I have thrived.

The music of silence and the damp darkness of black nights and bright white days have afforded me a quiet. The quiet has lead me further on a journey inside of where these thoughts and fleeting feelings run. I have compared myself to the weather before, but never have I resembled it so much.

So from this place of winter I am starting.

Moving the inside out.

Even in all of these dark dreary days you can see the shapes and shadows of things, sometimes with more clarity than in the light of day. With the blurred edges of my vision, this place of where things start and end is always fuzzy. It makes logical and emotional sense that this is the new place from which I chose to begin, again.