It’s been 32 weeks since my last post.

But I’ve been listening every day for the last 64 weeks. And I’ve also been painting.

Blogging seems so obsolete so if you want to really follow along, tune in on Twitter @objetsmart or Instagram @finewallsoftheworld.

Deep into painting tonight, an old funk record on the turntable, I thought, “is the listening more important than the painting or vice versa?”

Its a strange time in the world. I feel like the fall after 2001 where I sewed record sleeves together in a deep malaise about the state of the world. I am 18 years older, but I feel again many of the same emotions I did then that I thought had permanently dissipated.

That said, I enjoy painting. It is deeply satisfying and relaxing. In a world of constant consumption, it’s therapeutic to create.

And painting ties my visual curiosity into an act. For so many years, I’ve been a compulsive photographer, but painting forces me to be slower, observe and wonder about science and light and the magic that still exists when you look up from your screen.