Artists are never safe from themselves.
In every day lurks a discovery that will shake the foundations of who they are and how they are to be from that very moment onwards.
There’s no permanence, no calm, no peace.
In finding the bleeding wounds from which authentic voices are brought forth, truths spring forth with no warning, revelations, connections, epiphanies and transformation.
[This is an extract of a novel I’m working on, something that is a mix of a memoir and a treaty on the creation of the artistic process]