Since I was a little girl, each and every time I went to church, a lump would lodge itself in my throat and I felt myself holding back tears. I didn’t go often, but still, it happened. I’m not sure why or how, but maybe it’s the sense of immense faith and otherness that makes me a little emotional. It’s the sense of leaving your burdens at the door, and wrapping yourself in something far greater than you.
Art has always had the same affect on me. When I walk into a museum, it feels somewhat close to church. That sense that you are no longer you, you are whatever the pieces make of you. Art for me is solitary and moving. It’s the single cure for all things mad in the world… instantly transporting me to a moment in time where only what is directly in my line of vision matters.