[Bali, Indonesia]

Because the sun sets at the same time
all year round in Bali,

there's a sense that time is standing still--

that it's just one long summer.

There's this feeling of peacefulness

and of not feeling rushed.

This routine that is really tied into
the rhythm of the world around you.

[Sound of ducks quacking]

["Drawing from Life in Bali"]

New York is where I'm from,
and it's where I grew up,

and it's still where
I will always come back to.

But I also know that the most important thing
to make good work

is time

and space.

Living in Bali,

that's where I was going to
have the most of it.

I wake up around 6:30

because the sunrise is so bright.

By 8:30, I start setting things up
in the studio.

The cat gets locked outside
so that he doesn't run all over the drawings.

Nopi and Wiwik would arrive at 9:00,

--Draw from here to here?

--Yeah.

and Nyoman around 10:30
to do the offerings for the house.

It's this nonstop flow of
ceremonies and rituals.

Everybody is tending to the energy
of the island.

Everybody is feeding it.

In Bali, there are these temples
built around naturally occurring springs.

You approach the water and have this feeling

of deep reverence and deep respect

for this place and this substance.

And then, that you get to go inside of it
is really powerful--

this feeling of going down and going in.

The next day, I always felt
that something had been let go of--

that something really had been washed off
that I was carrying around.

I wanted to be able to draw something
from that experience--

to try and make a visual memory.

Drawing is not something that flourishes
in the tropics.

Paper will not last.

The air is extremely humid,

so many pages are going to warp in a few days.

I was able to have this
very simple glass case made

so I could put a small dehumidifier in.

Anything that I wasn't currently working on
would just stay in there.

Penestanan was a small village
that was built by

the community of traditional Balinese artists.

Expats started moving there

and things started to develop
further into the rice fields.

There was a big footprint that happened

from all of us tourists being there.

In just the three years that I've been there,
I've seen it change a lot.

But life manages to go on somehow,

uninterrupted by it.

I had moved to this new country
and I didn't have any friends there.

The scariest part was
my relationship had ended,

and I wasn't sure how I could make the work
not being in love,

because it always felt like
love brought so much exuberance

and that was really the source for my drawings

for a very long time--

at least for what I considered to be
my best work.

And I just thought,

"I don't know if I can draw if I'm sad."

"I don't know if I can draw if I'm depressed."

"I don't know if I can draw when I'm fearful."

And, actually, it was so nice to be able to
have drawing,

because it was like the one part of my life
that was still the same.

Me in the studio with paper

was there whether or not I was in a relationship.

It's definitely not as easy as
when you're in love,

but it's possible,

and it's so nice to have a practice
that sustains you.

[The Drawing Center, SoHo, Manhattan]

When I had the opportunity to
do the show at The Drawing Center,

I wanted to imagine energy
taking a form of a physical body.

I drew an embryo forming.

I looked at some scientific diagrams
of how cells divide,

and then just sort of follow that
through a life--

finishing at the disintegration of the body

and return to formlessness.

I knew I wanted to do this oval room
that was one big drawing

and in the same air as you were.

That it was fragile but it held together.

Having the work unframed was this
really nice aspect of vulnerability.

That was really how I'd felt
that year back in Bali:

super vulnerable.

Aaron composed the music in the space
for the drawings.

It was this sort of very sparse compositions

that felt like a slow breath.

And, really, I think it was

the sound of Aaron's gamelans
that gave this very peaceful atmosphere

where people kind of felt this sanctuary
that they had stepped into,

having come off the street.

I know, for myself,

even when I come across
something that I love--

that maybe I've travelled far to go see--

sometimes you only spend
thirty seconds in front of it.

I was really thinking about

how much time we spend
in front of a work of art.

And I always wanted to make an atmosphere
where someone would have long enough

to travel through the drawings in their mind.

I realized that that moment is actually
more beautiful to me than any finished drawing,

because it's the potential of a drawing
that I'm never actually able to make.

[Since filming,
Louise met someone new and they had a child.]

[They still live in Bali.]