Hermit as Interface
Every so often I disappear for two weeks, sometimes a month, because I paint. I step into a different register of attention, one where perception stops skimming and starts opening. That register crystallizes into the surface. The finished paintings carry a spaciousness I rarely encounter elsewhere, and people w
Winston, Wes, WeSeeClearly
Winston, Wes, W*S*C*. Different edges around the same opening. I was twelve the first time I intentionally chose a different name. It was summer camp. During roll call on the first day, I cut in as soon as I heard “Winston” and said, “Will is fine.” The counselor repeated it back, wrote it down, and [&h
