coming home late at night after an inspiring Illume Collective meeting, only to find my husband blaring sleater-kinney while making amazing silkscreened art. this kid amazes me. he's written close to 30 songs [or at least the seedlings for 30 years] and has made a collection of posters and paintings this winter alone.
he lives / breathes / dreams creativity, and puts me to shame.
a typical discussion with him goes a little something like this: "what is art? the gut wrenching work of figuring out a new way of creating and pushing yourself out of your creative comfort zone? or is it the exhaustive reception of a creative theme, until you feel you have exercised every possibility of creating? does that mean i'm being predictably repetitive? or am i stuck in a rut?" i'm not kidding. this was the first thing he said to me when i picked him up for lunch today.
he's the best thing.