I admit, I wasn’t thinking things through. I wasn’t thinking ahead. And I didn’t learn my lesson after the first or second time.
I have now.
I made the mistake of using the women I loved as the subjects of my art. Art made beautiful by the work, by the models, by the intimacy of the moment in which it was created.
Art that will never see the light of day.
Work made obscure when things went awry.
Art that will adorn no wall out of respect for those that do not respect me.
Is this a tragedy?
For me, it is.
Because regardless of the subject, regardless of history, this is my work. My attempt to create something stirring, something beautiful—something true.
I can do nothing but accept this. Appreciate the process. And learn from it.
And create new work for the world to see.