I wish I could say something graceful about this drawing. I cannot write coherently about my practice just now. I'm just churning, making multiples. These imply narrative but remain abject and still. I hope for wish for sweetness in them, a kind of loving touch to come through. Something about acts and multiples, the act of making multiples, my mirroring other acts of multiples, but in a cloistered and quiet way is deeply satisfying to me, even as it is critical and self-indicting.
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