25 September, 2010

Stack wood until the arms ache and sweat rolls into the evening air. Why did I become one of those artists living in the middle of nowhere? Parents and mentors I guess. Some of my favorite people live in strange places, and absolutely capture my heart. Theres Doreen who lives five plus miles down a dusty washboard road, John who lives in a crumbling folk art mastery, Jay who lives at the base of San Fransisco peaks without electriticy or phone, June who lives amongst the hogans on a forgotten path to Zuni and me, Natasha, half crazy desert anarchist, half art chick & half homesteader..that completes me at 150% with a twist of traditionalism to mess with our minds.

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