Acrylic, paper, pen, cloth, and found objects on wood
ART, LIKE LIFE, HAPPENS BY ACCIDENT
A whiff of control; some semblance of steering. And belief of a firm grip. But we're grasping at the air beneath our feet. The truth is: we don't hold anything. It comes in bits and bobs, dashes and jots - brief glimpses, spaces, sliding out of sight.
For truth, is to feel it slip away.
And then to try to create it.
> The Art of Everything <
Original Art for Original People