I was so wrong. I regret my lack of understanding and effort in beginning on the ‘open roads’. They were my roads. And yes, others were on the same road. They too began where I began, travelling, lookinf for their one road. All of our roads began as one.
As we met the lake, the sky softened from clear blue to an enveloping grey in the haloed light of the setting sun.
After months of procrastinating, I finally made the form for the light installation at the Matthias building…
As I talked, I still felt a bit like the observer, documenting myself and my actions while reminding myself to speak not as a victim but as a proud woman and graceful lady.
I would write a beautiful book, a beautiful story… But it may not be pretty….
A creative path might not be the smooth ease of calm, expressive seas nor the decorated, celebrated angst of artistry…
