My Yoga teacher’s teacher’s teacher studied in a cave, so I am two steps removed from that. That’s close connection to the root of a practice.

The Cyclops of The Odyssey, dwelled in a cave. Plato proposed truth in the metaphor of a cave. The oldest known Art is discovered in caves. Deepest caves are unexplored parts of Earth. Mystics (and madmen) are of the caves.

Today I brought my Cyclops sculptures out of the barn to sit in the open and cure their patina in the damp and sun, and it felt for me I was coming out of a cave; a lonely place of deep study and of looking inward for truth. Those who dwell in caves seek no attention and receive few seeking understanding. This is what is seems to me to be an artist. Remote from the world, gazing upon my own interest only, without message, irrelevant to the world.

I know there are artists who cell-phone-in their tunings of the interactivity of their artworks which explore the connections between multi-media performance work and social justice movements, respond to and evoke responses from their viewers about the subjects which their grant sponsors feel are critical, …but I couldn’t care less. That is propaganda compared to my practice.