An artist’s retreat, ideally, serves as a precious reprieve from cultural pressure, a chance to restore self-regard through the abiding in one’s nature, rather than anxiously seeking it through achievement. For a spell, we are not juggling gigs and straining to make the math work.

Liz has me thinking about the movement of my body as weaving. I’ve traversed the floor of this gallery many times, reshaping my sense of each work by changing the shape of my path through the room.

If I visualize each walkthrough from above, the wooden floor tiles become a loom. Flattening my traverse to the timeless grid, my path appears as a thread. My visit, a web spun of my seeking.