Today I get to put up something that's mine. The funny part is... this project ended up being the least "me" I have ever seen. This doesn't mean I don't like it, because I do, but I have never created something like this before - I always have total control over my work but I decided to take a risk and dodge that tendency. The assignment was broad: a "mark-making series". After much of my typical thoughts - very intricate, natural, and serene imagery - I plunged into something irregular. I mixed ink with bubbles (yes, like the ones you played with as a kid) and literally just blew them until the cows came home. Some I stuck up on the wall and let the bubbles drip down the page. It was like playing!

(#3 from the series)
I actually had fun doing this, and realized that so often my works involve something about childhood; usually it's something legible, but even when it's not, even when I'm not trying, it appears... now in the form of bubbles. I believe myself to be mature for my age, wanting to be out of school sitting in a comfy house by the beach with my life partner, but strangely my childhood impacts me in such a way, on a daily basis, that it seeps into everything I do. Somehow, everything I create is a reflection of my childhood, that easy wholesome life. I guess I played with bubbles a lot as a kid. Maybe my next piece will be with side-walk chalk....