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MY EARLIEST CHILDHOOD MEMORY IS OF longing to learn how to tell time, read books and make art. So many answers seemed to be hidden within those three puzzling skills. If I could only tell time, I would know how many minutes I had left to draw before Ms. Angel's art period was over and reading time began. And if I could tell time, I could rest easy that the enchanting alphabet would not soon be replaced by the dreaded numbers that never added up to my satisfaction (or most of my teachers, throughout the entirety of my formal education!)


50 years later I still love to read and make art. Alas, not so much telling time. I have learned that time means so little when doing what we love but we live in an age that worships time. Time feels sort of like an oafish dancer that steps on your toes just as you are beginning to really feel the rhythm of your mojo working. But I digress, as most artists do…

Swansong: Ode to Mending
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