05/30/2026
Every time I made a plan for this piece, life rearranged it.
I taped it. Stepped away. Painted a little. By the time I came back I had to mentally untangle which layer of tape was on top of which — what was underneath, what would pull away, what was actually still there. Every return felt like solving a puzzle before I could even start painting again.
That was fitting. Because that's exactly how everything around making it felt.
I started this series intending to push straight through. That wasn't happening. I skipped the second piece entirely and came back to it later — which, looking back, happened to be an accurate reflection of how things were going despite my initial intent.
The waiting kept this one constantly on my mind. I'd work out what I was going to do with it on the drive somewhere, watching my kids, and especially while laying in bed instead of getting the much needed sleep. Then enough time would pass that a better idea replaced it. Or I'd forget because I hadn't written anything down.
In the piece, the plans that were mostly holding together for the one before this are now harder to recognize. The geometry is falling apart. The pour underneath is fighting back through. There's a spiral built into it — originally meant as the lead into full chaos in the next piece.
But I've been sitting with that spiral since I finished it.
A spiral doesn't only go down. It depends on which direction you're moving. That's the part of this series I didn't fully see when I started it. It's not a straight line from order to chaos. You slide back and forth based on how you respond to what happens. Things fall apart, you fight back, you make ground, something else shifts.
The spiral can be a descent or a climb. Sometimes both in the same week.
I was happy with how it turned out. Not because everything went as planned — a great deal did not. But I learned a lot. And pushed through the difficulty. It reminded me that you can always move in either direction, no matter how far things have slipped.
If any of this sounds familiar, I'd love to hear it. We don't always see what someone else is carrying from the outside. But knowing you're not the only one being pulled in every direction — not the only one whose plans keep getting rearranged — that matters. It helps.
Entropy is on display this weekend only at the FASST member show at JWCC — today noon to 5 and Sunday noon to 5. After that it comes back to my studio. Come see it in person, or reach out if something here landed.