“Somehow in all this grief I found joy. Sharing art with you has made me whole again. And again.”

I have decided that the key to happiness is strong communication.

I breathe better now. I thought I wouldn’t or couldn’t. But I was wrong. Isn’t that how it is with these things.

No. I can’t pretend that everything is the way it was. Even though that’s what we do- move on like everything is okay.

I cannot face another moment of inauthenticity. Not one more day. Saying no to the things that make me uncomfortable in my skin.

A low hum. Vibration when it hits the skin. An image. Permanent art. But the most satisfying part is- the decisive-ness. Decision made.

When I am broken you don’t try to fix me. You listen. You are there. Thankyou.

If you think this one is about you- it probably is.

We only see what we want to see. Usually it is ourselves. Look closer. Tilt the mirror so you can see more. Beyond self.

We say so much with our words unsaid. There is truth in the silence.

Holding on to something that has lost its magic, lost its mutual respect, hurts more. Elsa understood the assignment.

I’m exactly the same person. Well, except I’m not allowing dishonesty, selfishness, or negative energy to be a part of my life. And I’m noticing that I am truly happy.

Gazing at you across the table. How is it possible that everything has changed but love has grown stronger? True partnership is filling in each others blanks.

It takes time. We will get there.

New clothes won’t fill the void. Money won’t make you happy. Attention won’t heal past wounds. Things won’t finally make you feel better. If it’s broken its broken. These are distractions from the real work.

We can learn so much if we take the time to listen.

Every time I answer- I have to work harder to remember that I am happier with a wall between us. But knowing this – I still pick up.

The art of survival is a story that never ends.

I haven’t ever found any great writing on that wonderful and often unappreciated art form, the insult.

I know that my look is more “toothpaste model” as opposed to artsy, which sucks because I can play those roles.

Art’s greatest efforts are invariably a timid counterfeit of Nature.

From the neck up is where you win or lose the battle. It’s the art of war. You have to lock yourself in and strategise your mindset. That’s why boxers go to training camps: to shut down the noise and really zone in.

Art has no other object than to set aside the symbols of practical utility, the generalities that are conventionally and socially accepted, everything in fact which masks reality from us, in order to set us face to face with reality itself.

Happiness is a little bit of art on a sad day.

Art is not communicative, art is not reflexive. Art, science, philosophy are neither contemplative, neither reflexive, nor communicative. They are creative, that’s all.