As I paint each line, it is a meditation. I watch the steadiness of my hand change over time, and repaint each line, sometimes 4 or 5 times, to make it come alive. It is a peaceful practice for me to work among the colors. I get in a rhythm with them. Sometimes boredom creeps in, and I go back to my intention to understand the way I falter as a human, and the way I keep showing up again.
My favorite thing is when a child sits in front of these. “How many lines do you see,” I will ask. “A million,” one will say. “No, a billion.” I think that is how I feel most times: life is so vast, and I, both so minuscule and all that is, … simultaneously.