The slanting 4:00 light of fall ignites me with the desire to create, quick!, before the year closes. Everything feels dire at once- conversing with friends, reading, writing, drawing, seeing, hosting. Many pots on the stove. None at a boil. As an artist, I look back at the annual wake of what I have made. This year, my flotsam is less physical and more conceptual. Who has the storage space? Previous years were heavy in studio creating. This year has been practicum. Gathering