Strangely as I organize these unfinished, never to be finished, slated for destruction prints and paintings I am just as intrigued by them, if not more, than any of my finished work, which seems in contrast, shopworn. Their fatal artlessness suddenly allows them a quality that makes them feel holy in my hands. These are the efforts of mine that will be cast into the fire being born only for my eyes. I feel a profound intimacy handling them.

© Elenaray (Help)