Getting Touched

Hello patient people.

A couple of months ago I started journaling in the hazy post-sleep-pre-caffienated minutes of the morning. It’s an exercise in focus, not necessarily one to generate any astute writing (it’s hardly creative.. terribly terribly boring, actually.) Having this tiny paper & pen ritual where none of my thoughts are broadcast is quite soothing. The surprising benefit is that my handwriting has improved slightly. The surprising disadvantage is that I feel very little desire to blog. So much so, it rarely occurs to me as a “thing to do”!

So, without an ironic smirk, I am blogging because I have something to share! And it is this: Touched.  My pet project is coming along swimmingly and it’s hard for me to talk about anything else these days. In a mere 12 weeks, I hope to be installing this show at Ground Floor Gallery and dearsweetbuddha let me have some hair left on my head when I do. The anxiety I feel about pulling this all off is relatively small compared to the sheer excitement of seeing the works of my peers and colleagues in person.

The images and words that are pouring in from the carefully selected artists are stupefyingly gorgeous… they are making me look like a genius for pulling them all together, and for that I am most humbled and grateful.

TouchedScreenshot

 

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