.jpg)
The other day I wrote that I no longer enjoyed venturing out into the world. As if it was time for me to wall myself inside my building. Like some would-be Proust in his final years. But this isn't the case. I'm not cutting myself off from life. I'm actually entering into the whole of it.
All of me merged with all of existence.
I understand how the entire world can become my studio. In fact, this is what the world means to me. It's all studio. Nothing but raw material waiting to be transformed into paintings, sculptures, and writings.
No matter where I go, or don't go, I open my senses to subject matter. I can't move a single hair, an eyelid, or a fingernail, without encountering a possible painting.
This is my post-world moment.