Well, it's been two years. I was writing a really poetic update about my relationship with my art, which is kind of like trying to pull down the stars....

And then chrome crashed and I thought to myself, "Damnation!"


Here's what I can remember:

Basically, I don't think I've gotten much closer to figuring out who I am as an artist.  There are days when everything feels right, and there are days when my hands feel like they don't belong to me, like little organisms that were attached by mistake.  Kind of like Edward Scissorhands.  He can create things of great beauty with his shears, but only when he doesn't try to use them like hands.

Trying to find myself as an artist is like stalking a mythic beast through people-infested cities with only a compass and a map grafted from an image on the back of a cereal box that's been left out in the rain.





But maybe something new will turn up.