The joie de vivre returns to me in waves in the form of the most mundane imagery.

Musing in the parking lot. That thing is happening where I’ve been looking at and thinking about photographs and now it’s all I can see. Everything is a photo and it’s annoying but special. The joie de vivre returns to me in waves in the form of the most mundane imagery.

In my teens and most of my twenties, I existed mostly in this space. All I could see were photographs around me. Over the years, as my field of vision expanded into other medias/mediums it would oscillate between them and in more recent years, on none of them. Expanding my world into a different professional realm that is not directly tied to art-making gives me more space to observe in a new way, but also provides me the space to pause and also through that space realize and understand just how special it is to be an artist at mind.

When I oscillate from non-art field of vision to art field-of-vision, it feels like a gift and feels like the string that connects me to purpose is plucked, vibrating. In feeling connected to my own sentient experience I then feel connected to others around me. This trained eye I devoted so much time to early on helps connect me to the spectacle of living. It is a gift and a means in which I process, reflect, interpret everything in and around me.

It is everything, a mine-forever thing, here unconditionally to keep me company, here forever in on some cosmic joke. In that profound simplicity the noise that pulls in and out around it (external elements, recognition, social media, gallery, financial gain) feels inconsequential.