art as activity and product presumes its own jurisdiction, fosters its own creators and so assures its own maintenance. practice continues to adapt my abilities toward an increasingly complex understanding of it and them. i am at once charitably sustained by, and ever confused in my groping through this relationship. the freedom is without end, and as such the products inch ever nearer an incomprehensible residue. where my judgment alone reduces or elevates, i see little reason to create at all. products crowded everywhere, who am i to suggest that mine warrant realization. yet i am compelled and so continue, relinquishing resistance to my most common impulse.
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