Sometimes I pull a book off the shelf not just to revisit an artist’s work, but to be reminded of a way of thinking, of being. The shelf becomes a kind of studio visit—a quiet gathering place for voices that stretch across time and geography, but feel deeply connected. Cai Guo-Qiang, Philip Guston, and Michelle Grabner sit near each other on mine, thanks to the serendipity of a shared last initial. But as I return to their books, I realize the connection runs much deeper. These are artists who work with conviction, who trust their materials, and who each in their own way remind me that meaning often lives in the risk—not just risk as provocation, but risk as responsibility.
Cai Guo-Qiang paints with explosions. Literally. His medium—gunpowder—is volatile, unpredictable, and poetic. In his book, you feel the dimensionality of his process and its outcome and the devotion to scale—not just physically but also spiritually. There’s a controlled chaos in his work that feels like both a before and an after. Destruction becomes creation. Mark-making as timekeeping.
Philip Guston, too, made explosive moves—but with paint. His shift from lyrical abstraction to raw figuration shocked the art world. The pinks, the boots, the hoods, the cigarettes—they're heavy. In his books on my shelf, you can feel the vulnerability of an artist choosing honesty over approval, painting what he felt even when it was ugly or uncomfortable. That’s risk. That’s vision.
Michelle Grabner brings it all back to the domestic. To repetition. To labor that is often dismissed or overlooked. Her work might seem quiet at first—a weave, a gingham, a loop—but stay with it, and you realize it’s absolutely fierce. She honors patterns, routines, and the radical act of daily making. Her work feels like a rhythm—steady, generous, and full of life. It reminds me that care and rigor can coexist, that the studio and the kitchen table are not so far apart.
Together, Cai, Philip and Michelle challenge the idea that art has to be a certain way. They hold space—for complexity, for contradiction, for risk. And they do it in wildly different ways. Cai through ignition. Guston through confrontation. Michelle through constancy.
So maybe the invitation here is to ask yourself: Where is the risk in your own life? Where are you leaning in, even when it’s messy, even when it’s quiet? Maybe it’s in how you show up. Maybe it’s in what you make. Or maybe it’s just in staying open to the unexpected connections between you and life.
Art, after all, isn’t always about answers. Sometimes, it’s just about taking the leap not knowing where you’ll land.
