Memory Palace, or, Hello

I have this idea that a blog can evoke the sensation of being in a particular (real) place.  Consciously or not, several blogs I follow have this effect on me.

My studio is in the basement of my house; when I descend the stairs to work I also descend myself to work from a place I access with my hands and my gut, not my mind.  That’s not to say there’s no intention in my work, not at all.  But instinct rules in the basement.

This blog, then, being the place where my mind tries to make sense of the making of the work, and all of the trouble that surrounds that great need, should be like an attic.  My attic.


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