The material. I am very fond of The squishiness of oil paint, the way the tubes feel in my hands, the way they sit in rows of color at the art supply store when you go to pick them out, mixing medium in some old jam jar, mixing color and not being sure what will turn up but hoping it will be really good and if not I guess it may be mud and you start over again, the smell of turpentine or turpenoid and the way all of these smells fill the room. The difficulty and challenges the paint presents (never a dull moment), the contact of my hands to the canvases even when they leave fingerprints, the way the brushes feel when they press down between yourself and the surface.

This past winter I watched: The Shining, Gilmore Girls (again), Twin Peaks (again), Brooklyn, Things We Lost in the Fire, Place Beyond the Pines (again) Jane Eyre, Downton Abbey, Wings of the Dove, Room With a View, The Holiday, Eyes Wide Shut, Stir of Echoes, The Following season 2, The Following season 3, Pride and Prejudice, Vatel, Ethan Frome, The Year Dolly Parton Was My Mom, Broad City (the latest season), Nashville (the latest season), How to make an American Quilt , The X Files season 1, Farewell My Concubine, Atonement, Gone With the Wind, The Railway Man, Chocolat, Jennifer 8, How to Get Away with Murder season 1, Becoming Jane, American Beauty (again), Bram Stokers Dracula (again), My So Called Life, Charmed (season 1), Best in Show, The Perfect Storm, Elizabeth, Finding Fanny, A Dangerous Woman, Amelie (again), Big Stone Gap, and I’m sure there were quite a few episodes of Law and Order.

And this goes out to the person who said I should list my jobs I’ve done so here they are:
Nail technician
Dish washer
Baby sitter
House cleaner
Office janitor
Live in nanny
Café manager
Gardener (for one day)
Salon receptionist
Shipping coordinator
Line Cook

The Stuff, i.e. Content
Abstract thoughts represented through images
A broken narrative,
Pictures from a dream conjured by an experience
Desire. ,
”trust, pain, love, and the giving up of the self” to quote a line I read by Dave Hickey and so I am using
For the quiet fucking voices in our head that just won’t shut the fuck up
The messiness that
Domesticity fulfilled or unfulfilled for whatever unfulfilled domesticity means,
Human connection and disconnect,
Lack of another,
Presence of another,
Self-Identity effected by either of the aforementioned,
The notion of two-ness with self or with another,
The space you can fit into and the space that is foreign,
The space you wish you fit into,
Stranger- us or them,
The traces we leave,
Ethereal roughed around the edges,
Body as vessel as testament to our existence