TIME by: Lydia Dildilian (Not like the magazine)

Ok--so where to begin, time that is a pretty open subject in my my studio practice. I guess the best way for me to start is to go into the actual sad reality of how many hours, I slave away in my studio. I often think of The Avett Brothers song lyric, "I work less like a work horse and more like a slave." Its more like a second home to me than anything. If that tells you anything. If I had a bed in there, I don't think I would ever go home. I feel like time kind of stops when I am in my space working. The days meld together and before you know it--- it's not the weekend any more. There is an odd type of transitory space that my minds seems to go to when I work. My body seems to stay in reality some what, but my mind drifts to a place were time seems to not effect it. Not that it stops but it drifts in and out or this weird melding of time and space collapse inward, like unfolding action, if you will. I am not a religious person really but I would describe myself as more of a spiritual person, I guess where I am trying to go with this, is that there is this odd moment, when I am working and this time collapse thing happens and I find myself close to something I really can't explain. Maybe that is god or a giant spaghetti monster, or perhaps I have finally inhaled to many solvents over the years and I am now crazy. Time finds it's way into my studio and it affects me in the most confusing of ways. From the long hours that I spend working or from the many mistakes, that I have to make to finally realize the correct solution to the problem.

I thought i would share this photo with everyone because it some ways. I feel like when, I work in this fashion (painting/ installation) I am like some analog clock, recording my fleeting moments of this weird time/space concatenation.