As I approach the end of my first month of art training, I decided to ditch my collage class--only because I had a four-hour window to wait for the internet nazis to come fix our lagging service. So I worked on the dining room table. How lucky that my apartment receives a ton of light and has plenty of space.
This is what I created. The details will sort themselves out eventually. Until then, I relish in its darkness. My voice arises. Is it called voice in art? Maybe it's touch.