Moving

We are moving soon from Knoxville to Nashville, TN. It is a distance of less than 200 miles, so I don't  feel the nostalgia of walking around your city thinking, "Oh, this is the last time I'll ___(verb)__ in Knoxville." I may be in denial of mourning this place that we love and, more importantly, the people it in. I run into friends at the grocery store or at the park and awkwardly blurt out, "We're moving."

This evening I found this description form Kunstraum Tapir (an artist residency in Berlin) and I read it as a fortune cookie or horoscope. As with those prophetic media I project myself into the words and have here changed Berlin to be Nashville.

moving
moving is research. moving is un-finished. moving is the wonderful time spent looking forward to something you will probably not find. moving is a trial. moving is experimentation with what you avoided before.  

moving is the freedom of art and artists. moving is the day and the night in your studio, without being forced to produce anything. 

moving is the discussion about your painting, your story, your music or your video. moving is the palette you used in the past and you will use in the future. moving is the composition you are looking for. moving is the book you are reading. moving is a portrait of Mars. moving is the sound of a fountain in the park. moving is a phrase you listened to in the supermarket. moving is the problem you want to solve. moving is a labyrinth. moving is wandering around [Nashville], asking people about happiness. moving is your favorite place to be. moving is a giant puppet made out of cans. moving is [Nashville] and its’ many faces. 

I've been wanting a series to guide some drawings. Perhaps this will be it. The phrase at the new supermarket. The new labyrinth. The fountain in the new park. The research, the giant puppet made out of cans, and the experimentation with what I avoided before.