In the dark, in the rain
Staring at a blank page is equivalent to an artist staring at a blank canvas: it can be thrilling at times, but mostly, from my perspective, it can be terrifying. The spinning wheels in your mind become blank, despite all of the inner dialogue that generally creeps in... you're having this conversation with yourself, inside of yourself, immune to the outer world around you, whether it's momentary or not, it ceases to exist for that moment in time (non time), and you're in it... you're in the dark. Darkness has so many relative associations, I won't begin to bore anyone with where it comes from, the distinctions between "good" and "bad", functional and dysfunction, wanted or unwanted... it's just darkness. If we start from there, from some sort of uniquely neutral void, it is nothing: no-thing. Grasping that piece is rather strange in some ways. I see it hanging in a gallery, almost self-indulgent at times, humorous mostly, like the outc