Fellow pinchers--
I'm digging without a shovel, boots not tall enough to clear the snow. I'm full of the spirit of podge and other delights. I have had cold toes since October but I'm not wavering in my commitments.
I have resolve! I can be disciplined.
Things I want, things I know:
Belief so loud it feels like a revelation.
If I decide I can do something I can do it. That's the power of strength.
(more saving, more doing)
A goat could climb anything.
This cat can't stay away from my foraging.
Any battle could be picked.
(nothing bad could ever happen to me, I'm constantly laughing)
I've narrowed it down.
Three modalities of practice:
1. The “found” image, a sight that calls for being translated. Intentional looking and something akin to divine intervention-- a sudden “that’s it” moment.
2. The “produced” image, a curated still-life. Either an idea for play, or the necessity of needing new subjects, allowing composition and content to float by.
3. The “compiled” image, when disparate moments are collaged together. When there is no singular way of saying “here is what I am seeing, thinking, feeling.”
A mostly joke 4. Dinner is an act of love.
Yours as a cannibalistic bird, probably eating a chicken left to right,
E