So much has changed yet much has remained centre-stage. The new body of work is increasing, albeit still slowly. I’m absorbed in the process itself. By that I mean, this iterative method I use is revealing minute aspects I’d overlooked before, to the point where every step now can result in multiple variations. For example, if I vary my choice of wax, or alter the pressure of the needle I use for etching its surface or even repeat stages several times, each final piece is different and possess its own identity.
This is quite probably of no interest to anyone but me and unless I document it, no one will ever know. So why do I want to keep on doing it? In all honesty, I’m not sure. I could write an esoteric narrative around all of this, weaving perspectives of critical theory into the work. But that wouldn’t be authentic and would also completely miss the point.
I think I continue to do this work to stay alive. It evidences my existence. It’s as simple and complex as that.
