The truth of all of it occurs when I reflect on being half of what she is, in terms of the artist & art. I am exactly half. Of her whole. The level I represent is 50% the level of hers. At fullest capacity, at “The Artist Henry,” I am still 50% less than she is, my mom is, as an artist. 100% of my inclination, talent, and if we are to believe a “gift” is involved, a gift for self-expression through tangible mediums comes from her lineage. Yet she represents half of my DNA. Thus, as you see, I am only half. From the start I recognize I’m already much less talented, gifted, and inclined than at least one, by a long shot–by half. Written & visual: half. Maybe not written, but she is still quite good. She might be double. I might be right there with her on that. Maybe surpassed but lets not assume. Visually & intellectually without a doubt half. The thing is she stopped the pursuit of 44 well over a decade ago when she began her iconography practice. And she never publicized or gave credit to the power of her words. Her paintings, though outstanding in concept, form, and technique, were and have been held privately. 50% less but I’ve made different choices. My choices might better fit my lessened skill. “Prolific,” Henry says, again & again. Maybe the word count will make up for the real lack of the other half, the other 50%. But what of the other 50%. How does it make me different, in a positive way? There is no doubt I am significantly visually inept in comparison. There is no question about it. Giving myself 50% in comparison is almost prideful because a single digit may represent what I’ve got. Vocabulary: 50% or less. I’m being nice to myself. I am incorporating aspirations (of studying the dictionary & syntax again). In a way all of this is to, kind of, apologize. I am not the real deal. If I am the real deal then damn, we let a realer deal pass right by us. I’m not hating on iconography. Tradition and technique is all I see in that practice though, and I don’t do either of those. Inspiration & abundance will be my attributes I guess. I think what I’m reflecting out loud is a coming to truth moment: “I am not the one.” I can’t be. I’m much too less of already one– however talented, inclined, and gifted she is, was, & will continue to be. So here we are. I have to work with what I’ve got. No kidding it’s a lot. Abundance in many forms. Perfect timing. Stability. Unpredictability. There’s hope on the horizon (the child). My 50% with her 50% (the poet) might recreate a version 3.0, and the real player deal closer may rise far beyond any of his or her predecessors, ahead of all successors, far far beyond them all carrying the flag higher & stronger than neither my mom nor I could ever have. If it doesn’t work out like that I believe it will have been by choice. Supported either way, always here, never there, forever & ever. I love you guys!