Let the Work Face the World on Its Own

I have gradually become less interested in making people praise my work.

Of course, appreciation is pleasant. Every artist hopes that someone will see something in what they have made. But praise itself cannot be the purpose of creation.

I would rather make the work as honestly as I can and then let it leave me.

Once a piece is finished, it has to face the world on its own.

I cannot stand beside it forever explaining why a stroke was made in a certain way, what philosophical idea was behind it, or what the viewer ought to feel. If a work requires the artist to constantly defend it, perhaps the work is not yet independent enough.

This does not mean that explanation has no value. Context can open a door. But eventually, the viewer should be allowed to enter the room alone.

Perhaps this is particularly important for the kind of work I want to make.

I am not trying to create an image that demands attention through spectacle. I am interested in quieter experiences—something that a person may notice today, live with for months, and understand differently later.

A work may succeed without receiving a great deal of public attention.

Someone may simply take it home.

They may hang it on a wall and pass it every morning. One day, when they are tired or distracted, their eyes may rest on it for a few seconds. Perhaps their breathing slows. Perhaps nothing dramatic happens at all.

That small moment may be enough.

This is why I want my works to be able to live without me.

The artist makes the work.

Then the work begins its own life.

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