I grew up a cable kid in the NW across from a cemetery in a town filled with Dead Heads. My admiration for the erratic, the glum and the natural purely delineates from my formative years. My only memory of my grandmother is associated with HE-MAN. I find this saddening and amazing at the same time. Between two strong oppositions lies a grey area larger than both. In my work I attempt to depict the fog of equivocal thought. A small paradox. Our planet is 36.7 light years away from Arcturus and is a spec in size comparatively. If something were to fall from it would take life times to get to us. I can't imagine that. Everything we do and say has weight in our world. Even though it may be beyond our reality, it still means something. It still exists.
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