My visual senses are not alone, as my olfactory sense is often satisfied by the work of the artist in the adjacent studio who makes soap and candles.
Sometimes I work without music because there are train tracks right outside my window. My own rhythm is is accompanied by a rumble and the rhythm of wheels clacking over sleepers and screeching against rails. The commuter and cargo trains often remind me to stop and look, to give thanks for nearby travelers, to honor that food and goods must come from somewhere, to remember that I am on a journey.
