i have not found a way to make social media work for me. years of trying, deleting profiles, starting again, repeating the cycle. i've collected likes, but you can't live on likes.

ordinary conversation would introduce skin colour as if it is part of a person's name. we went to a new restaurant, and the manager is a black man. this is a mild example, almost polite, but it's offered like it explains something essential.

destruction has followed me through my life as an artist. i've burned, broken, and erased my own work, searching for release when i cannot stand the pain. in recent weeks, two sculptures met my hammer.