From my blog: 

At times, I have overlooked the mystery, been afraid of it and wanted so much for it to go away so I could be "normal." I have tried my whole life to fit into social groups, social norms, social expectations, relationships, and jobs. I don't ever fit into those very well or for very long and damn if I haven't tried.


So at 45, yet again I surrender to the mystery. I surrender to found furniture that always finds me on the streets and perfect bowls of soup. I surrender to the person that finds my work and gloriously understands it the first moment they see it. I surrender to the perfect song on repeat and the best tube of Payne's grey and the way paper gets so yellow and brittle and the wonderful sound it makes and how I like dirty, broken down art. I surrender to being alone as I experience these things and that you will never know the feeling in my brain when it fires that sweet spark.