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I used to write about silence

I do not remember if it has been three or four years since I stepped back into the world of arts administration in addition to teaching. Now, the fall semester has ended and I will enter one more spring session in that particular role – then back to life as an adjunct.

I already feel the freedom of maintaining only my studio practice combined with teaching. This opportunity returns me to a less stable, much less stable, existence that has its challenges. However, I woke up this morning in a home that I do not even remember seeing in these past four years accompanied by a thought forcefully generating from my entire body – I used to write about silence.

I used to write about silence. That ability is returning. Like Scrooge’s glee realizing that the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future visited all in one night as requested; or being given a second chance at life after a long illness. I can only be grateful for the role I had and the fruition that is now freedom.

Teaching is my love, more than that – to work in the studio. These are not separate. In order to be superior at what I do, both practices are woven together by an invisible thread of consciousness. They are one.

My work points to the essence of holding one’s seat; stillness in the center of chaos as we respond to and struggle with life’s energy and experiences. This work is research and practice. All art, when its intention is genuine, is research, practice and commentary.

With gratitude unmatched, I return to my work – exploring what is so necessary and greatly undervalued in our existence as humans. Being still.

 


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