I nearly drowned in the climb. Not in water — in the compression, the performance, the slow forgetting of the parts of myself that didn't fit the box. I know what that costs. I know what it feels like to look up and realize the land is running out and nobody taught you how to sail.
So I learned. Slowly. By walking, by paying attention, by painting what arrived.
192 animals. By hand. One at a time. In a room without an algorithm.
The Arc(k) is what the attention made — a vessel built from old timber. The I Ching. The wisdom traditions. The songlines. The hermetic knowing. The witchy ancient memory of what human beings have always used to navigate chaos. Not to escape the flood. To sail it.
Every print I ship, my hands made. No warehouse. No algorithm. No middleman. Just the work, and the mail, and you on the other side.
The animals are still arriving. The painter is still painting. There is room on this vessel for everyone willing to pay attention.
We're all captaining our own boats. But we're in the same ocean.
This is how I reach across the water.
— Jeremy / Captain Jezzatron