Art is, among other things, emotional acceptance training.
These are hypernormal stimuli, widening our capability to experience, nudging us to adress our preconceptions of how things „are“ and „should be“. Can we stomach it?
The tenderness with which my daughter airlifts a snail from the sidewalk equals the curiosity with which she studies roadkill.
The growth of spring gives rise to explosions of color, but so will the decay of fall.
There is beauty in destruction, sweetness in decay, just as there is violence in growth.
There are thousands of lives in a piece of deadwood.
This is what Mother of Millions was/is about, and the imagery I’m currently creating feels like a natural and necessary extension of that path.
Thank you all for the very kind feedback and interest.
