I enter the experiment, carrying less certainty than I usually want because I know that my strongest ideas sometimes appear only after I stop demanding that they behave according to what I originally planned,
I enter the experiment, willing to make something awkward enough that I cannot immediately decide whether it is good or bad, worth building or archiving,
I enter the experiment, because the part of me that wants control has often confused predictability with safety and safety with progress,
I enter the experiment, can I stay curious when the thing I am making refuses to become what I ever expected and stay focused on what’s on the present,
I enter the experiment, willing to make mistakes that are fully needed for progress and now, the question becomes more interesting than the answer…
I follow what moves me, even when I cannot explain why one possibility suddenly has more life in it than another that looked better just on paper,
I follow what moves me, trusting the strange physical pull that makes me want to keep looking, keep adjusting, keep returning before my rational mind has finished its argument,
I follow what moves me, because sometimes interest arrives before understanding and I do not want to punish an idea simply because I cannot justify my attraction to it yet,
I follow what moves me, what happens when I stop asking whether this makes sense and notice whether I actually want to stay with it and explore it’s path,
I follow what moves me, what am I in is beyond anything I can fully imagine and the work begins answering in its own language to keep…
I try another way, when the first version feels lifeless instead of forcing myself to rescue it simply because I have already invested time and pride into making it,
I try another way, giving myself permission to change the shape, the order, the material, the voice, or even the entire direction without calling the experiment a “failure”,
I try another way, because a dead end can still reveal something valuable if I am willing to notice what it taught me about the full road I was taking,
I try another way, am I staying here because the work is alive or because I am afraid to admit that this previous version is finished and now I needed to move on,
I try another way, beyond what new beginning can give here comes failure, completion is a new information instead of a verdict…
I leave some things unfinished, because not every idea needs to be forced into completion simply to prove that my time with it was worthwhile,
I leave some things unfinished, trusting that an idea can become clearer after distance has given me another set of eyes with which to meet it,
I leave some things unfinished, allowing dormant possibilities to remain somewhere within reach instead of destroying them because they were not ready for me today,
I leave some things unfinished, can I allow what no longer needs my hands to rest where it is, trusting that completion is not the only way something can have mattered,
I leave some things unfinished, and the unfinished begins feeling like a new possibility again, until I realize that an ending does not always close a door—it can leave the room open for something I could not have imagined before…
Watchwords:
The question becomes more interesting
The work answers in its own language
Failure becomes information
Dormant possibilities remain within reach
The unfinished begins feeling like possibility
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream:
