"So you're an artist, but what kind of art?"
They tilt their head.
"…Paintings, mostly."
But that isn't really the question, and it isn't really the answer.
My life is a series of conversations.
Have you ever tried to hang a conversation on the wall?
My unreasonable dream is to have one with people all over the world. To share an inside joke. To be a companion who is simply around in presence, where you don't need words.
I know what it is to have a phone full of contacts and a life full of people, and to scroll when it matters most. Until what mattered was buried like a secret somewhere between my chest and my stomach.
Wanting to be seen but having no space to say so. So since I can't physically be everywhere, my art can.
Some of it is an exhale. A beautiful moment that pulls your attention out of the noise. Some of it is absurd on purpose, because life has gone too neatly polished.
Call it a painting, call it art, call it a collectable, call it the thing covering the hole in the plaster.
And when you need to talk, or to feel understood, or to just stop for a second... you share a look with what's on your wall.
Thank you for being in this one with me.