Difficult it is, mostly impossible, to catch even the most fleeting glimpse of the world as it was for our animist ancestors. Tainted by technology, our contemporary worldview leaves little or no room for mystery or magic.
I travel to Milan and back to find one journey finally has an end.
Does place have an effect on my work? If so, how do I recognize it? Or does it take someone else to point it out to me?
Musings on the idea of place, both actual and mythical. My history includes living in three places, San Francisco, Santa Fe and Marfa, which have prevalent, public mythologies in many ways at odds with the real. In the difference between the real place and the form a particular place takes root in our imagination we create our own private mythology.
Looking back on this post after more than a year I would probably make some edits as my situation has changed, but it’s important I think to leave it as is. It is a true reflection of a place and time which has now slipped into personal history.