I've been marginally productive this weekend, but am ramping up (finally) - some drafts of my artist's statements for Prof. Donis-Kellers class. The first is a sketchy, draftlike hack of me looking all over the place, and the second is an empty expanse of gray paper with a few charcoal keys hanging from thumbtacks driven into the wall.

Self portrait: But it's shiny over there

All right. Mel, you like books, you like studying, so you're just going to sit down and read, and I'm going to draw you. There we go... and just hold that.

Hey, you gotta stay still. How am I supposed to draw when you keep moving? See what happened there? I'm going to go back and fix it, but I need you to stay still. Just focus, all right? That's good. That's a good girl. I know there's a lot of interesting things out there, but you can't do 'em all at once. You know that, right? Right. Good.

What's that? Wait, no - don't - hey, what are you doing? Don't stand up! Just - sit down, get back here! I'm not done yet! You're not done yet!

Habitat: BISY BACKSON (from this)

They said you might be looking for me.

I'm not usually anywhere in particular. Most mornings I grab my keys off the wall and run; when I get tired I come back to my room to collapse, and that's a day. I couldn't tell you in advance where I'll be in between. As long as I've got access to a flow of information, I'm plugged into the world, and it's good.

I'm a wanderer. It's when I'm not home that I feel most at home; it's when I'm in someone else's place that I feel I'm filling mine. My room is where I hang my keys and nothing more. It's not a place you'll find me if you look.