The threshold between devotion and obsession is often narrow. Sometimes we have to step over it, in order to feed the beast of creation.

When we give ourselves fully to the process of making art, whatever that art is, we decide that it is worth the hours of toil and heartache and pain.

Art is not just the object, it’s the dedication to a god of our own making, upon an altar of eyes and hands and hearts. It is the voluntary spilling of our souls, a little or a lot, so that someone else might see, and understand.

I’m queer and trans. I didn’t know myself for a long time.

I feared my body the same way someone fears a tool they haven’t yet used. But now I know my body, and I will keep perfecting it and using it to make art that says “I was here” for as long as I can.