I did it again, and this time, better.
My first art exhibition, and now this. It has been a good year so far, artistically.
* * *
A knife; to slit wrists, or to cut card?
Rope; to be a line of death, or to hold a montage together?
Wire; for suicide, or for sculpting?
Formalin; an elixir to the underworld, or a reagent for scientific research?
All we have are tools. But whether we fashion death or life out of them is another story.
Perhaps the gift of words is something I have yet to truly master. For I know that, although my words can win competitions, my words can, and have, injured many over the years.
May God have mercy. May those whom I've injured and hurt and crushed someday be able to forgive me.
I want to thank David for inspiring me with that brush.
I want to thank Ai Wei for walking into that room with me, to write the essay. Seems it went well; we both got more than what we'd ever expected!