Do you think art gets anxious? Do you think a blank canvas gets tired of waiting for someone to cover its surface and create art? Or that a camera peers at you accusingly, waiting for you to get off your butt and go out to take some photographs?
I wonder these things as I stare at this stack of frames. Are they tired of waiting? Does art hunger to be created?
My camera is looking at me right now. It wants to go out in the blowing snow and play. Yet here I sit in my flannel pajamas, inches away from a roaring fire, unwilling to give up my toasty warmth for 40 mph winds.
Do you think art will forgive me today?