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The Freeze
Every so often, I experience what I call the freeze. Artists will know exactly what I mean. It is that moment right before you begin a new piece, canvas blank and supplies ready, when something inside you locks up. You want to move, but you don’t. You know what to do, but suddenly you can’t…
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For all the deep ones…
…because I know there are deep ones feeling it. Some days feel like breaking points. They come around randomly, and lately it seems like I see posts about them more frequently. They come out of nowhere, and lately the signs of them seem louder, more open, less afraid, more honest… yet still misunderstood and brushed…
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Unhidden
entry nineteen — scattered light, fractured grace: a quiet archive of light, loss, and what remains. I’ve been thinking about how easily we overlook what does not bloom on command. How quickly we decide something is less valuable when its rhythms are quiet or unusual or slow to reveal themselves. How we are conditioned by…
catacosmosis 