Persistence. It’s isolating yourself from the craft; you’re not that important. The work, blood and efficiency are.

You will be a student for life, attuned to the muses of your soul. The only way to appease the tempest in your heart is to admit that the journey never ends.

The itch will forever be there to remind you that there’s something more. To get closer to it is not to deny or escape, but to earn one’s keep. You’re only an artist if you make art. It requires daily work, never a one-time success.

Tenacity is being acutely annoying. It’s showing up even just for yourself. Because then even in uncertainty you prove that the gaping void can be your weapon. You feel its gnaws each time, yet you’re humbled by its guidance. It taps you to bring forth jewels. And you let the labor of love be your fuel.


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