Not searching for signs, signs find me. When a bird dropped its droppings on me two days out of three I felt it was a sign but I don’t know what the hell that meant. Someone told me it was good luck. OK, I’ll take it as such because that was nicer than what I’d come up with.
Artists of whatever form are often rather attentive people—not necessarily attentive to dirty dishes in the sink—attentive to what calls them. Isn’t that what art-making is about, in part, anyway, we look for indications of where to go—which color to use, what word best follows the one that came before.
Me, I’m always seeing signs. Here are two signs in the physical world that were right in front of me when I came by—one from outside Oaxaca and the other on a now gone building at Ft. Ord in Monterey. Two good signs. I follow them as I can.
And you, do you notice such things? How does your art benefit from such attention? What are you attuned to? You might find a way to bring the signs—of whatever kind—that are around you into the art you make.