While cutting and ripping a beautiful teal book I've never read and have no intention to read, I tell myself that everything is fleeting, and the world is big. What will it matter if that book survives my existence just to be thrown away or kept lonely on a shelf, no one admiring it like I do, and who is to say there aren't a million others that I would just as adoringly have and hold.
What I have learned and begrudgingly tried to accept is that sometimes in art-making, we fail. An idea in our heads will rarely live up to our expectations, and that for every masterpiece there are a hundred mediocre works and even more failed attempts. This is why I am reluctant to use my collections, but alas, I must. And I must also have faith that it will be worthwhile.
Onward we go.
Hi, I'm a friend of Bill's. He showed me a few things on your blog recently, and I just wanted to tell you that I really like your work. I really love this frame and your book with envelope pages. I had never thought of it as being a collection before, but you've inspired me to finally do something with my "junk" drawer of things I've been meaning to make something out of.
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