Pressing, nudging
I’m ashamed to admit that I’m feeling detached. The pressures of world events and domestic politics are overwhelming and are calling me to focus on daily projects that are low-commitment and highly tactile. It’s gratifying to dip hands into the grime, and then wash them clean. Looking for order in the disorder. Watching the gold flecks rise up out of the black ink to create areas of lightness. These are nothing pieces are nothing but busywork while I listen to political podcasts which further remind me of the depths of darkness.
These are smudges. Nudges to keep me moving forward.
