Her Head in the Clouds came the way the rest of my works have come — with time, with intuition, and by letting the work go where it wanted to go. Lit-er-ally. What emerged was a cloud formation (yes, clouds again, who knew!?), and beneath it the lower half of a woman's face, her neck, the beginning of shoulders. She revealed herself ever so slowly, I guess, the same way clouds do. And as clouds go, I follow.

To me, she is an antidote to realism. She is the rebel, quietly defiant. The clouds forming a soft barrier — filtering out the doubt, correction, and the clear-eyed logic that tells her what is and isn't possible.

The blocking of this 'realistic' view is exactly what's needed for any chance of hearing her innards. She chooses a soft rebellion (whether consciously or not) in order to follow her dream anyway. To do the audacious thing while the nay-sayers say nay.

Thoreau put it better than I can: "It is better to have your head in the clouds, and know where you are... than to breathe the clearer atmosphere below them, and think that you are in paradise."

This work feels like a space to build dreams in — before anyone tells you they can't be built. Nay!

This work is available