I arrived in Budapest on an artist residency not with a guide book, but with a dictionary. That didn’t occur to me until I met my fellow residents. I had
So I followed everyone, that first sleepless day, to the public baths. The fog created by natural heated springs in thirty degrees was a surreal experience — along with the ease and comfort of putting my faith into the hands of strangers. This experience was bookended by gypsy folk dancing in a dark bar until two hours before a departing flight for home.
Everything else in between was a struggle between art and exploration, as always. Graffitti, churches, bars, art supply stores, trains and mayonnaise. Lots of mayonnaise.