I have come to terms with it completely.  It has to be done and there is no way around it but through it.  It’s not that I don’t like it, I love it. Now it’s relative, now it makes sense…most of the time.  When it doesn’t I wonder if I am missing something.  When I can’t work it out it is intensely frustrating.  I want to know as much as I can about everything I want to know and there is so much to know, to read, to research, to see, to touch, to experience, to create, to find, to absorb, to critique, to disassemble, to revise, to sell, to buy, to make, to satisfy, to validate, to believe, to show, to exhibit, to learn, to teach, to appropriate, to produce, to earn and to repeat.  I will never know it all.  What I do know is I am uncomfortable and content with it.  Art is all consuming.  It has eaten my mind, my soul and my life.  I know. There is no end to this new beginning.  I can feel it.  One time ended, another began or perhaps time has blended. There is a difference though, in my work, my obsessions, my thoughts…my constant thoughts.  I try to socialize it as much as possible…I don’t want to get lost.  I know.  I already am and I remain happily confused. All of my senses make no sense.  My Art is not lost but I am lost within it, trying to find its meaning and language within the process.  My studio always saves me.  I know. I have come to terms with it completely.

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