Not so long ago I attended with a talented pal Ottawa’s Sexapalooza. I had thought that it might be an interesting venue to continue my meditation on touch. I was wrong. I did however predict an early spring by peeking my head outside the giant vagina.
No, these thirty days, these collected images are destined for something else. A blurry vision, a shadow, has hung over this idea from the outset. It wasn’t until a friend, my best, rudely, benevolently, ripped the scab off all my vulnerabilities that the idea sharpened. I am excited to start making this real. I am equally uneasy. I bet that is a good equation.
Dear collaborators: Once again I am in awe of your willingness to indulge my silliness. The photos, the parts, make a beautiful whole to start from. Some are from friends, many are from others. All of them gifts.
So now it is my turn. Give me another thirty days and I will see what I can do. It is behind my eyelids every time I close them. Here we go…