On drafts

I love the idea of the draft.

Of writing’s tentative newness.

Of a door being opened so that air gets in.

Perhaps, with draft too, there’s the suggestion of a bent table, something on its side, something that can be leaned or rested upon so that an architectural or cinematic or unformed dream can be crafted and sustained in its unfinishedness.

Substack is a daunting place because, for me and my relation to it, it’s a place of and for drafts…for a kind of clothesline rustle and display of half or unfinished thoughts

…which is how thinking is…which is how writing is…

still, even the written or drawn or painted or sculpted itself bespeaks a finishedness that is never not vulnerable to air…the peeling back or blurred line that evokes a door-tapping wind of rethinking…the ecological shift that comes with reimagination…

Maybe being okay with the draft in all of its open, bent airy incertitude is about embracing all that it is.. a way of relating to the word or line or turn of paint and clay that recognizes its own vast and changing weather systems…its resistance to ends…and the idea of fixed arrangements..🌺

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