ONE CHILLY DAY IN THE CITY I WAS IN A SUPERMARKET GRABBING SOME LUNCH. I WALKED BY THE OVERFLOWING WALL OF FLOWERS AND ON A LARK, CHOSE A BUNCH OF LILIES THAT I KNEW WOULD SMELL SWEET AND MAKE ME HAPPY ON THIS COLD DAY. LATER ON IN MY STUDIO I WAS ADMIRING MY FLOWERS AND THE BLUSH OF COLOR ON THE TIGHTLY CLOSED GREEN BUDS, AND I WANTED TO CAPTURE THEM, BOTTLE THEM UP SOMEHOW. I STARTED WHAT WOULD LATER BECOME A DAILY PRACTICE. I SET UP MY PALETTE OF OIL PAINTS AND STARTED MIXING THESE FAT PATS OF JUICY PAINT. I DIDNT REALLY INTEND TO PAINT THE FLOWERS, I WANTED TO STEAL THE COLORS THAT MADE THEM BEAUTIFUL AND SUBTLE. THE FLOWERS WOULD LATER OPEN, REVEALING MORE COLORS THAT I WOULD CAPTURE WITH MY OIL PAINT. AND THEN THEY WOULD BEGIN TO SHRIVEL AND WILT AND THEN THEY WOULD BE DRAB HUSKS OF THEIR FORMER SELVES, AND I WOULD CAPTURE THOSE COLORS TOO. AND THEN I HAD ALL THE STAGES OF THIS DYING. USING MY DOOR AS AN EASEL I TAPED MY CANVAS OF SILK AND PLASTIC TO THE WALL AND I WOULD BLEND THE COLOR OF THE DAY INTO A CLOUD. THE RESULTING PAINTING AND PRINT ON THE PLASTIC WOULD BE HUNG IN ORDER UNTIL THE RECORD OF THE LILY’S LIFE WOULD BE CATALOGUED. DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS AT CAPTURING THIS PROCESS, THE OIL PAINT WILL EVENTUALLY DEGRADE THE RAW SILK AND FLAKE OFF THE PLASTIC, AND IT WILL FURTHER EMPHASIZE THE FULILITY OF MY MISSION.

AND THATS ALL I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THAT.