It’s been a long time coming. To think that I’ve been making this art for so long and I’m just opening the vault and sharing the thoughts behind it all is a greater challenge than I expected. You learn a little something about yourself when a project you care about purely and intrinsically becomes something you have to talk about or worse….market. If this is a tale to be told I’d like to start from the beginning. In the process of writing this I’m learning this story is one I need to read as well.
Pt 1: Be born. Cool. Did that
Pt 2: Learn to walk, breathe, speak, chew, get away with whatever I was doing as a kid.
Pt 3: Poetry. The pictures before the visual art.
It was my birthday, a tough day in my families house and a trying day where I was at odds with someone I cared deeply about. Sitting in my bedroom, on a recliner that was once a valiant source of rest, a pen began to glide across a blue lined page as I put all that moment’s stress and frustration elsewhere. There was an immaculate spillage that was etched into that paper and my own memory. The act of redefining a moment in my life with a reflection I could give new meaning.
Not taking the moment for what it was objectively but allowing it to foment to a subjective lesson. More than the person life happened to I became the person that life was happening for. Was it denial? Or the selection of who I was becoming from that day forward? Poetry became another notch in my internal locus of control. The act of finding the extraordinary in the mundane. The act of finding a lesson in a culmination of events that could otherwise be solely memories. Painful or otherwise
But what about all this has to do with these collages? That poetry was a foundation I hadn’t understood at the time. I’ll explain that soon.