I am happy, I am healthy, I am true, I am love
I live in accordance with my deep driving desire
I lay down my burdens
I am happy, I am healthy, I am true, I am free

I am grateful for this mantra that appeared in my head today.
I will set up a little alter and decorate it with the pink snowflake petaled flowers from the tree in my front yard.
I will repeat this sweet mantra.



Somehow I related to the character in this movie today. The movie is great and Julianne Moore is incredible. Not sure why I was reminded of this, perhaps I felt the confines of a bubble. 




Today I learned about Saraswati, 
the Hindu goddess of knowledge, music, arts and science. 
She rides in on the swan which represents the breath. 
The peacock is often shown sitting next to her, representing the ego. 
I like this idea of 'riding' the breathe, focusing on the breath vs. ego. 



'After all, why shouldn't we demand a certain effort from the reader? We always explain everything to him. In the end, he gets fed up with being treated with such contempt.'

-Raymond Queneau

'When people ask what art is about, they remove it from what it can do for the mind. When people ask what it is; 
then the discussion gets interesting.'

-Matthew Weinstein

I always think this. Don't ask what a piece of art is about, ask what it is. Same with music. If something is created and never existed before it IS something in itself, unknown and new. Yes, sure, influences and stolen fragments may remain, may be referenced, but it has it's own imprint. 

Art can be a physical or sonic representation of a thought process. 
What would my thoughts look like if they were three dimensional? 


"What did my arms do before they held you?"
- Sylvia Plath




Piece of cardboard found on floor. An abstract miniature. I like the spaghetti highlights and hint of green herb in top left corner. Pre blog I would have taped this found object to a page in my sketchbook. I have a row of old sketchbooks on my bookshelf, multiple gray square books purchased from an art store down the street from my old Hells Kitchen apartment. I have never found that same gray book since, and I barely keep a sketchbook anymore. Is a blog the new sketchbook? Funny how I made those books yet rarely looked through them. Sometimes when I pack them up for another move or arrange them on some new shelf I flip through their pages. They always make the move. Their insides remind me of how a certain painting started, or show me where a chorus was first scribbled, but mainly I don't like to remember what I was doing or where my thoughts were. Maybe someday I will. I guess I just like to trace the path of an idea.What will possibly become of this spaghetti square?