I was offered an opportunity to earn a little easy money today. It challenged me a lot. That on the back of reading Vassily Grossman's 'The Road' about WW2 experiences, 'The Auschwitz Violin' by Maria Angels Anglada and 'Tescoply' by Andrew Simms. Maybe someone's easy money comes at the expense of someone else. Integrity is hard to maintain. Listening to one set of people may make us deaf to others.
And is my artwork in danger of that? Sand figures have a curious life. They thud and lay where they land; they split and leak momentarily; when permission to touch them is granted, they engender love and attention. What will they evoke when they point out, point to and designate the precious?
