I've beeN Scribbling with Markers as of late. I've been scribbling like pip. Someone said in the dvd movie I made, that art is, "the sweat of the artist, the time, the tears they cried", all of this participates in the spirit of the painting, that which deeply connects us to the human part(s) of ourselves. Maybe the spirit is that which penetrates space, face, time, and causes or brings about a rippling of renewal.

I say this because I deeply believe aRt can chaNge lives, chaNge the worLd, unify and celebrate diversity at the same time, and I believe the spirit of a painting has something to do with this. When I see the scribbling pages of pip, I see masterpieces, I see something that makes me want to cry and smile, I see Beauty in the scribble, in the washable marker stains.

The movie is what it is, it is what people have said.

IT is the sound of trains, the beeping of cabs, the silence of night. In certain frames nothing happens, in others, everything happens, in the words of those who thought they didn't know what to say about art, but then really were overcome by something in them, as if it was ripping out of them, not in a painful way, but in a way of healing and love, art became something for them in those late hours of the night, and maybe will always be something.