To move

A mark of time, turning our clocks back, fall – winter – spring. It has been one week since the closing on the studio in New Mexico took place.

Saturday afternoon. Since the first week of September there has been a sense of rest. It is the first week of November. Sun setting, focused on packing, framing work for my upcoming show, In the Garden, In the Distance which opens in January, in Colorado. Contacting folks in NM to let them know that my studio will be in Santa Fe (in addition to Masonville, CO) as of May.

Labels, many. To identify for a general public. Nothing really applies to an ultimate truth. Every single thing is transitory. That some of us are still alive after these two years is….. no word describes that….no words apply. I am not a Colorado artist. I am not a New Mexico artist. I could say, lightly, that I am a Chicago artist living in Colorado or New Mexico. That, too, a label.

Chicago, another way of being in the world? A quickness? A way of thinking? A look (“You don’t look like you are from around here”, they literally said when I lived in Wyoming). Unidentifiable – unseen?

I don’t know. There is no answer. But there is comfort and freedom in this move. Aside from Chicago, Santa Fe is the only place that felt like home ( and perhaps more so or I would have stayed in Chicago). I have watched it and have been “in it” for many years, more than half of my life – another label that I cannot really fathom. Time. Labels, projections. Santa Fe has never been what it appears to be on the surface. Especially now.

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