(4/24) I've been trying to think of a way to tell you more about this image and the words that name it but I'm just not sure how... I will make an attempt as I appreciate the opportunity to tell you more if I can.
The picture was taken last fall while I was reading/savoring a book I have read many times, a book that I feel has shaped me in some ways, called The Delicacy and Strength of Lace: Letters Between James Wright and Leslie Marmon Silko.
On this particular night I was writing myself a letter, trying hard to get my bearings in a life I could no longer discern from a dark night in the woods. The light on the bedside table refers to a concept I have especially loved in fiction and art these last few years. Perhaps you can imagine the significance of light in this context?
This is a solitary image, it speaks to solitude, is solitude. It encapsulates and reflects my need to be a hermit at times, to work out my thoughts, my desire for slowness, patience, rest and germination. In many ways my work is all self portrait: most of what I have to convey starts in my life somewhere. The phrase that I used to name this post is a quotation from a friend I respect and adore very much. I feel it is a beautifully articulate and enormous thing to say. I want to fully embody the sentiment of this phrase.
My bedroom is a sacred place, my bed is an island of repose and although I have invited this or that person in one context or another it is like a river: you never step foot into the same place twice.