|
1.6.2002 the punches come from unexpected sources, leaving me not knowing whether to laugh or cry or just go home. instead i roll with them like a bodyguard, keeping safe the most precious of all wardens: my little creative self, singing happily to herself while creating humangous castles out of soap bubbles. she keeps my art alive, creating always anew the creature i call myself.
Who says? Cloth and acrylics on hard wood, 2003
|
