"333333"
The studio at twilight, then, with its stacked canvases and its notebooks and its folders and its shelves - this is what 333333 actually is.
A very particular light falling across a very particular field, and the small figure of you moving through it with a flame in your hand, finally able to see the shape of what all this making has been making of you.
The Moon doesn't stay forever. Neither does the Hermit's hour. A time will come when daylight returns and new work begins, and the synoptic vision will fade back into the texture of ordinary days. That's fine. That's how this cycle is supposed to work.
But while the studio is dim, and while the canvases lean together in their soft grey continuity, and while the lantern is still raised - look. The whole body of your work has been waiting for an hour like this one to finally show you what it was always trying to become.
And you, walking through it quietly, are the one it was becoming.
Article Credit: Blair Andrews
Comments