A Month of Sundays

Reflections by Tamara Wellons


Red Paint

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I woke up mad because in my dream I walked on a floor covered with red wet paint. Mad because this was the third time- and in the dream [...]

Months of Sundays

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My job as an artist is to see the world…feel and then describe it. That’s it. When that time is cut short, it is very troubling. I don’t like being [...]

Air Balls

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This morning, when I looked back at the pages I wrote from the previous day, I saw that I had written, “Let my work speak for me.” That line [...]


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I would not say that my mind is totally absent. I’d like to say, I go off into other lands in my mind from time to time. My attention [...]

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