Work In Progress: The Heartbreak will be Televised V2.3

 

The roughing-in of the Bifrost is complete. The colors are set, carving a bridge that rushes forward toward the vault door at the heart of the piece. I’ve also added a third smokestack, echoing the skyline here in Halifax, where the Tufts Cove Power Facility stands as a landmark. From the organic-mechanical heart rise three stacks of its own. The bark of the central tree has begun to take shape, holding leaves made of skulls, arranged like ornaments.

This work is a reflection of process—not just in art, but in life.

When I look at my own rhythm, I see cycles. I can push myself into periods of intensity: earlier mornings, more art, more posts, more engagement with life. I summon energy from frustration and channel it into progress. For a while, it works. I feel like I’m moving forward. But inevitably, the pace catches up with me. Burnout follows. And then comes retreat.

Maybe you’ve felt this too. That cycle of effort, crash, recovery, repeat.

But here’s the truth I’ve learned: even in burnout, there are gains. Even in the quiet, the work leaves its mark. Analytics climb slowly, posts build momentum, and art becomes its own record of what I’ve lived through. Progress doesn’t always arrive in waves of change. Sometimes it arrives brick by brick, post by post, one small act of creation at a time.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. And neither is a life.
It is built in moments. Habits. Micro-actions.
Sometimes slow. Sometimes fast. But always built.

That’s what this piece reminds me of. A reminder that even if the heartbreak is televised, even if the burnout feels inevitable, the act of showing up—again and again—still creates something lasting.