Childhood, Adulthood
Sometimes I start a creation with an idea, and sometimes I just go, “hey, this random choice might be pretty.” The latter often turns out to be a revealing mirror at the end.
When I was young, two school assignments I had were memorizing a list of prepositions, and using a ruler to mark off and draw a geometric web. Words and lines, speech and math. Things stay with you, surfacing at intervals to lay themselves on top of your grown-up knowledge.
You can't lose what's truly yourself — but everything you become is prodded along by what you once were. Art feels like the ongoing trick of bringing those forces into a truce.