Selling Dust is incomplete, like I am. Here in this site, I strive to say everything and never succeed in saying anything quite right.

I am impelled as a curator–critic. I seek perfection. I want to cast light just right, beams sometimes pale and sometimes probing into the shine and shadow of chiaroscuro grooves in the record of artistic exploration. Isn’t life supposed to be what you make of it? Why, then, wouldn’t we make art of it? Art to aspire to everything? Sun, moon, stars, rain, lightning, earthquakes, love?

I feel comfort when I communicate with artists, with musicians who fail but never stop working to get it right. I want to get it, write. Not just write but put it in the light, situate love and loss and doubt and growth.

I’m glad you choose to be honest and open and vulnerable, even when that risks nothing getting done in the darkness. I’m glad your life has been touched by other artists who heard you and opened up space for your sounds to be most beautiful. I’m glad you strive to say everything. It makes me, a collaborator in your art, keep listening to get it right.

********************************************************************