I find it disconcerting that I cannot get my internal sense of care or consideration to juxtapose contiguously with what spills from my lips. Instead I become undone as I see reflected misreadings that suggest my intent and words are far apart. Sigh.
In studio during critique, I encourage my students to focus on the disjoint between the viewer’s read and their own intent as artist. And I nudge them toward listening in a way to uncover possibilities to reduce the discrepancies found in the gap between intent and reading.
I apply this same practice to doing life. And in observing other, I note the contrariety of my intent and their read. The gap is larger than is comfortable. And subsequently, I often follow up with the intent of reducing the gap, but instead widen it. This is the part of being human and the practice of language that I find frustrating. And I am left with the nonfunctional notion that it may be best if I do not speak, which I understand to be a self-defeating and non-practical solution.
Humorously I wish for life to be as easy as art. Ha. Art is not that freaking easy in exception of intent, nor in the reading! Yet if one screws the intent or reading up it is inconsequential to the practice of life. On the other hand…
Image: 2005 ~10’x3′ selfie, painting on a hotel desk while traveling in Paris/Rome/Florenza.0