I was standing with my nose about ten inches from the glass on the picture framed in a tiny corner made by two standing walls, one large and white, the other, only big enough to hang this tiny picture that I'm standing too close to, but I can't help myself.
Someone at dinner had said to me, "So, you're an artist."
And I had fumbled around and managed to insecurely say "Yes" to that statement. This was the 3rd year in a row that one of my photography pieces had been selected for a juried show, each piece had been chosen by different jurors... and still, I felt like an imposter, in a world I wasn't worthy of.
That moment in the gallery — a full body sensation came over me.
I let it wet me and crash to the ground.
What a wave. What a joy.
I feel feelings now, deeply, with my whole self.
I am happy.
Anything that moves me to feel something.... Music, poetry, painting, photography, video, sculpture, dance, food, making love....
Art is real. Love is real.
I felt immense gratefulness for being moved by that tiny piece of blue paint on the wall and simultaneously the live music that was being played by the band a few feet away... I felt thankful to be alive.
I could sense there is a place in the world for anything that elicits this type of emotion. There is a beautiful reason for anything that moves me to feel my own humanity.