Every once in a while I find myself needing to make art. Life-blood sort of necessity. But then I sit, and I blank out. Will it always be like this? On a sleepless night, I think about this. I can picture myself sitting at my desk and making myself draw. I need to realize that no matter how much I try to run away, or shove this deep down, it will always float to the surface (or claw its way up).
At least photographs save my ass from time to time.
Stewart Park, Ithaca, NY 2008
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