In The Dictionary of the Khazars (a book I recommend highly), Milorad Pavic writes of a swordsman trapped in a cage of his own swordstrokes. I’ve been fascinated with the image since I first read it, and return to it regularly. I should probably paint it to exorcise it from my imagination.
The things that occupy us shape how we perceive the world– or at least, how we interpret our perceptions. This fellow may be imprisoned by his chosen path, but am I similarly snared, not by strokes of a sword, but those of a brush or pencil?