A year ago, almost exact, realization dawned that life and the intricacies of observation and travel had let my 40th year creep with no obvious literary signposts––I had been slaving in the online content creation realm for so long that I’d found ways to enjoy it.* And that scared me.
One (flute and pen-&-ink) realization sparked my endeavors on an upward tangent––art knows no boundaries. Visual, musical, and written work springs from the same senses. A part of my skill is attributable to practice, an (arguably larger) part springs from my imagination.
I do not have to be the “best” in anything to achieve my artistic goals. The synergies and frictions between the modes of expression are enough. Synesthesia.
The iceberg tip, circa early December, 2013, was an identifiable, describable thing. The goal was simply to have a book published, start on another. Not so now... the deep waters engulf.
Coming soon, Arisugawa Park - 1.28 Hooded Cloak - (Microbial Understanding)