My appetite for being understood artistically is voracious. I feel like I’ve been locked in a box for most of my life, unable to speak what I was trying to say. Thanks to an unbelievable amount of artistic squirming, my words now are conveyed in shapes. 
In the art world, there are many onion layers to success. I’m currently looking at larger scale situations and trying to pick my brain apart as to how to jump up the scales and up the layers in an organic way. Now that I’ve built the first tools to maneuver this, I’m in the process of making bigger tools to dance harder and faster. 

I was given a strange life. The husbandless wife: the quiet journey of a twinflame. Most of us don’t have kids because Daddy’s probably not coming home anytime soon. However, my voluminous silent time is spent executing art acrobatics through perfectly timed art somersaults and meticulously chosen decisions. 

I’m researching which types of explosions (prizes and exhibitions) I have to set off next to be heard. What do I have to do to get there? Where does the art go next? What contemporary figurines do I have to shine my face in front of? How vague does the language get, and how big do the sculptures have to be? Do I need a team in Tokyo and in London, or should I adopt a simpler life in the foothills of Switzerland while it all takes off?

I’m excited about swirling all of the pot together. To get each one involved, like a big, electric soup. It’s kind of like Khaleesi,  just not as mad. I’ll still be throwing swords and screaming,’ Dracarys’ while the wind whips through my hair.

Always big change on the horizon because showing at the same spots you did when you were 25 just doesn’t cut it. Always moving forward with confidence and grace. I’m never going to give up, so don’t off me before I get there.

- your favorite diamond, the 1st of a million  

I explain to friends that art is a language that only you know and you have to teach yourself through years of play and practice. No one else knows your art language. This makes it difficult because you cannot learn it from others, except in the way of understanding their art language and what you like about it. One of the ladies (Virginia K) at Paul Vincent Studios exclaimed when I arrived for my solo show in 2010, “We were wondering if you were meticulous or messy in the way that you painted,” delighted to see how I applied paint. Meticulous it was and meticulous I still am. I don’t think I could make messy artwork, but I have learned new methods that excite me over the past thirteen years. 

I woke up quite normally at 2:45 this morning, as if it was 5:45, ready to begin the day, thanks to the new moon. It hit me (finally) that each method of making work would change the shapes I made and the way I did the art. I would make different shapes if I had to make them in Illustrator, vs. make them in paper vs sculpt wood or print them out on a 3d printer. I was looking at a Brazilian painting duo (AVAF) that made work on paper and cardboard and I had this realization. I also was looking at work by @miecongo and had this same feeling. It was like opening a new door. 

I am getting prepared to go back into the studio full time. I have had to orchestrate and endure two years of non-stop construction to be able to do this and I’m finally back to the drafting table. So much of your work is in your mind before it goes to production. This early morning realization will be digested over the coming months and synthesized into new work. I’m typing this as I drink coffee at 4:06 am on Thanksgiving 2022. I am thankful today for quiet early mornings when I have realizations and my cats are still half asleep.

 I often contemplate leaving social media eternally, only working in complete solitude for days upon days, eating every four hours and going out for smoke breaks while being surrounded in a large white glowing room with a large window to the woods with no noise, no irritation and no worries. It would probably make my work unstoppable, but I would also probably go insane. A girl can dream though. 

As I build Diamonds into the 3d in my mind, I’m contemplating all of this. What needs to exist to be able to relax to be able to view art comfortably? Where should it be and what should surround it? What sounds will shoes make while walking around in it? I’ll go fight the owls and coyotes to smoke and think about it. Should I write everyday? Should I be more proactive in town and grow an art scene? Where do I find this little bit of paradise to put the gallery? The idea of making it as simple as possible so that the influencers have no pics to take is tantalizing. 

LOL

In choosing my physical form, in choosing my spiritual form, I am assuming formlessness. 

I am a tender groat, a luscious roni, a mythological glass bottle, I am a button.

I build switches, I whisper into ears, far from fear, cycle around leaves, slice into beef. 

I burn widgets, I remove bridges, I am not thinking of midgets, but maybe you are.

Smelling the pine, feeling fine, finding bags of plastic, it’s fucking fantastic!

Better bend the piggy, hold my nib, freshen up the apples and the plums and the figs.

Wafting in the air, “Fuck you: I’m a bear!” 

Technical stints and mesotints and flowing ginger locks of hair

Tumultuous decisions, weeping lesions, invasive prisons and a carrot-paring knife.