When it came time for the training wheels to come off my bicycle, my father apparently thought he'd be doing the standard running-down-the-street-beside-me scene. I wanted nothing to do with that and walked my bike, sans training wheels, to the neighbors' concrete driveway. As my parents told it, I was gone for hours. I came home banged up and bleeding, but able to ride a two-wheeler.
I sent my Web site into the world today, perhaps the last living artist to do so. It's a big moment, preceded by years of doubt and resistance, mostly because my work is so slight and so about slow experience in quiet space that I feared it would lose everything on a screen. I think I've accepted that it's different, but that isn't the same as without. I think the work can gain enough on the Web to balance and perhaps even round out whatever of it doesn't come through. Let's hope.
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