It always happens at the beginning. When I’m working on an all new body of work for a show; the deadline marked neatly on a calendar, several months ahead.
I find myself staring into an abyss; darkness all around me — a great and yawning chasm beneath and beyond. Wide, expansive and vast — not ominous; just there. After all, it’s a place I freely visit. No noticeable form or shape stands out. Just amorphous liquidity — a rich yet featureless stew. It’s here that I float in a buoyant tremble. Searching. I often catch myself trying to force something into existence in front of me, even though I know these magic tricks don’t work. It has to come for me fresh from the darkness. On its own.
Searching blindly — my fingers exploring the space around me for the silken strings of an instrument I’ve played once before. It has to be struck just right. And when it is, the sweet hum of the tune — well, it starts everything anew.