Hidey-Hole

  As a youth you dream big. Then life kicks you around and you begin to dream a little smaller. This is a pattern that repeats itself over and over, until you pass middle age when you stop dreaming all together.

  I stopped dreaming to be a successful artist a few years ago after I realized just how rigged the art world is. It was no big loss, and instead of success I now wish for survival, and the ability to keep creating.

  Today when I was sitting in an empty train station, trying to escape the weekend warriors and rabid football fans, I thought about something I wish I could have, and that's a hidey-hole. A small underground room all to myself, preferably without windows, and with plenty of sound insulation. 

  In this room I want nothing more than one reclining chair, a bookshelf, a reading light, a cassette deck, and a small table. WiFi and phone signals would not be able to penetrate its walls of ceiling. The idea is for it to be close to being a sensory deprivation room. A place for me to escape the constant real and virtual noise of the today's world. A place for me to get lost in my own thoughts.