When I think about flying, I think about the thickness of the air that surrounds me. The air I breathe. The air in which my wings flap anxiously, hoping I don't bump into the pigeon I offended three nights

I am thinking of artists, writers, creators, and cooks. Musicians performing slow jazz in an empty speakeasy on a Tuesday night; with an opera singer at the door of a 40 sq. ft restaurant. A gloomy cafe

I think I'm being followed by otherworldly creatures, apparitions, some may call them ghosts. I think I'm being followed as I walk around, as I eat, as I move across moments in time. As I lay in bed counting

As I sat under a fig tree in my dream last night, I wondered what it must be like as a beetle crawling across a muddy patch in a community garden, thinking the universe of the tall, unmowed grass. A little

While there are ideas, observations, idle stares into the glaring sun, a walk on wet grass, bare feet on a warm summer evening and a sweaty face and greasy hair, an inaudible whisper, the shadows and flowers

Hi folks, I like to paint self-portraits, photograph, make films, use greenscreens, look at pigeons and record them going about their business, watch films, music, listen to film audio, I like white noise