I rushed back to S when I figured out how serious this virus was. Grabbing the food that was left for me, I went straight to the farm. I have often stayed here, but never under these weird and stressful conditions. I began to walk around the 80 acres for hours every day. I discovered over 30 spring ponds that I had never known existed. I began to draw maps so I could find each of them again. I am still here, and visit each pond every day, even though the water is gradually disappearing.
I am following my own processes in developing art projects. I wander around feeling quite lost, having no idea what my next step might be. But at the core I respect that I need to do what I am doing. At this point I always think that I will never make art again. As I continue, I gradually realize that something is shaping. I gather the raw material, and then next steps gradually and magically emerge. It is a process over which I feel I have very little control. I just have to keep doing, looking, thinking – and a shape materializes.
I am living in a parable about change – just not sure what the final lesson or message is – and both equally slow.