Wednesday, March 3, 2010
I often think I make art to stop time. I used to make it to say here I am, and of course, that still has something to do with it. But now it's more about grabbing hold of what I'm thinking in the here and now, and making it stop, hold still, so I can understand it a little. Things change so quickly. If my piece, Inconstancy, were real, the mushrooms would multiply or die, the birds would fade away. It would be different in only a few hours. I try to say, stop. But time doesn't, nothing does, and that's the lovely absurdity of art making, isn't it?