About Jill Levien

I draw. I doodle. I fidget anxiously with my hands. I experiment. I fall in love with process and then I get bored. The mind wanders. I stare and observe with big eyes. I think about computers and the English countryside; a landscape filled with stories from my childhood, sheep, dank wool and warm pubs. I crave the glorious taste of salt crystals in cheese, rich dark chocolate and I smile thinking about the joy of finding a ripe tomato hidden among stinging nettles. The thorns that prick when I pick a plump autumn raspberry do not hurt. In the fall before a storm, the humid tropical air feels electric as I stand on rich dark soil that nourishes carrots and dark leafy greens. Dirt reminds me of buried history and past wars. Wars feed the theater I love about Kings. There seems to be no shortage of fighting. Cities get built and destroyed. I feel an adrenaline rush when the curtain rises. Those actors were babies once, with breast milk dripping down their drunken cheeks. The rhythmic ticking of equipment in a hospital contrasts with the joyful moans of a woman birthing at home My younger self never imagined love would be this powerful or painful. The rhythm of pedaling on my bike reverberates as I try to fight physics and ponder what is gravity. I enjoy the thrill of solving a math problem. But it is folding origami that helps relax. Sometimes I can’t stop the feelings of inadequacy. Death; it is hard to not think about death.How easily life can take a turn and be destroyed. Will this duality exist on other planets? Space is expanding. Nothingness.