Beauty is mysterious;

finding mere pieces of Her is all we can ever hope to do.

In an effort to understand how truth and beauty are created, we regularly break down large perplexing works into more manageable pieces.A novel is merely a group of chapters, which is a group of paragraphs, which is a collection of sentences, etc. All interesting subjects become the victims of criticism, the Self included.

The artist’s perception of the world cannot be separated from her perception of self. Ultimately, she is another mystery  worthy of dissection and interpretation.One whose smaller parts offer glimmers of truth that can be seen, but never truly captured.

photo by Jaq Vega

journal by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse