Peeca Mark

i used to have a phobia of pigeons...

not really a phobia, more like, an extreme amount of irrational hatred. But as I've been forced to live amongst them, share my sidewalks and sometimes personal space. I ended up striking some unexpectedly insightful conversations. Don't get me wrong, a twinkle still shines in my eye when I past lifeless tuft of feathers in the road.
But pushing that aside, i noticed when the pigeon ignites from the ground and flaps it's wings amidst passer-byes, it's so wild and uncontrolled. Like a waterfall or a wild fire. Like when a grease fire sets off out of a pan unexpectedly in the kitchen while the families preparing the dinner table. But when I see it take off the ground wildly flapping, I remember that the bird's free to roam and go as it pleases. Like little elves playing around construction workers hard at work ignoring all bounds and bureaucracies to feed their own self-centered curiosity and frivolous inspirations
I wish I could be free with my artwork like the pigeon when it springs off the ground. By hairline urge, ripping through the air in mid-flight. The wind-current so fluent there's hardly need for it to spread its wings. Bouncing back and fourth off the walls of springy urges.