This work has come out of a place rooted deep within my own personal emotional structure. Beginning with a struggle for self-identity, the pieces flow through motions of disassociation and longing. Throughout the process of creating this work, I have been able to glean a sense of detachment in order to observe my own difficulties in relating to my emotions.
Stylistically, I have created an atmosphere of dense color saturation and juxtaposed it against low contrast moments of black & white, in order to show a conflict between extreme attempts of emotional saturation and disassociation. It is my belief that this dichotomy exists within the human spectrum of affect and that the audience can relate to the scale of color and its affective function.
Both my struggles with identity and creative work have been influenced by the impact of hyperindividualism on our culture. In this work, I have taken two concepts with which I have attempted to show an adherence to: the Western extraction/distortion of Eastern religious practice, and the cerebral and speculative search for self-knowledge through theoretical analysis. It is my intention to share with the spectator the effect of such detachment on the human spirit, and how this can lead to a sense of deep longing and despair. Additionally, I have come closer to the acceptance that this will always be an on-going process which does not necessitate an ending.
love like i’ve never known it before… i’m not talking romantic, heart-wrenching, buttery love. i am talking about love that exists in the heart of the universe. a mature love that is truly unconditional and without boundaries. i am blessed beyond belief to be receiving such love, and i make it my life’s work to return that love back out into the world.
as i recall it…
“i love her and want her to love herself first and foremost. if that means that she needs to be alone, be with women, or call me up in four months and invite me to stand up in her wedding… i am all for it. the love i have for her goes beyond convention and it will be with me no matter what the outcome between us is. she needs to put herself first and i will be happy any way she can do that.” …………………… HIS WORDS WERE SO MUCH BETTER. I CAN’T REMEMBER THEM EXACTLY, THOUGH I WISH I COULD. NO ONE HAS EVER SUPPORTED ME IN THE WAY THAT HE DOES. I TOLD HIM THAT I NEED TO BE ALONE. I NEED TO EXPLORE AND FIND MYSELF FOR MYSELF. HE HAD ASKED ME TO MARRY HIM BEFORE – AND NOW HE HAS GROWN TO THIS. HE IS TRUE LOVE. HE IS AN EMBODIMENT OF WHO I STRIVE TO BE AND GIVE TO OTHERS. HE IS SELF-LESS AND SELF-ASSURED. HE GAVE ME SOMETHING THAT HAD BEEN MISSING MY WHOLE LIFE – PERMISSION TO DO ME. PERMISSION TO SAY NO. PERMISSION TO SAY YES. PERMISSION NOT TO HIDE. PERMISSION TO NOT TAKE ABUSE FROM OTHERS, OR MYSELF. I didn’t need the permission of course, but because of what he has shown me (a mirror into myself) I now know that I never needed the permission – I just needed the courage and confidence.
i might be a lover . i might be a loner . i might be asexual. i might be bisexual . i might be me. I AM ME – but i might finally come to love whatever that comes about to be.
the end is the beginning is the end
4 years of — everything. life, endless talking, breathing, loving.
i told him he has to go. it’s been on my mind for a long time – too long to say (admit out loud)
me: i may be asexual
him: you’re not asexual. you have trauma.
me: i have so much trauma because i may be asexual.
him: i’m sorry. i love you. …do you want to have sex now?
i can’t hide behind my desire to be a martyr. i don’t want to be a martyr anymore.
i didn’t even know you could be asexual.
is that a Facebook option now?
concentration deliberation escalation
in the center
the dreams are
can’t you see
not where you expected.
to find yourself
inside this poem
the feeling inside persists
we climb inside ourselves
to the place we feel that we belong
you belong here.
we belong here.
we all belong here, right inside this poem
there is nothing like fresh ink on your skin to remind you that the pain you endure is only temporary and always makes you stronger…
I got a tattoo on my solar plexus. Right in the middle of my sternum. Of course it hurt – but it made me feel alive. It changed my psychic energy.
Mandalas are spiritual centers of so many faiths – buddhism, christianity, hinduism. Carl Jung used them to reflect on the inner state of man. For someone such as me, who has been searching for spirituality and inner understanding since I was a child, you can imagine the weight that could be put into such an icon. That is just what I got tattooed on my chest, the center of my heart chakra.
Tattoos are certainly not everyone’s idea of beauty – nor are religious totems. But for me, they are both symbolic of the pain I have suffered and the obstacles I have overcome. I have never felt more proud of myself than I am right now for being the change that I want to see. Everyday I will wake up and be thankful for where I have come from and look to where I wish to be.
Emanating from the point on my body, my vehicle if you will – is a symbol of strength, knowledge, love, peace, focus, courage, awareness and the universe. The emotions we experience are orbits and not walls. They will circulate with us as the sun and the moon do. We should aim to accept them and be present with them as they will only be there long enough to acknowledge and then pass away.
What is your mandala? The thing, essence, totem, idea or word that keeps you focused?
too much concentration
all of this energy caught up in the synaptic firing overloading my brain… waves of kinesis with nowhere to go (direct) – should I this, should I that?
Opportunities abound in this perfectionist cycle of inspiration, madness; stifled only by itself. IT self. itself. IT = SELF? I am only it, my, self. Thus I am in my way, it’s way. I am the lack and also the abundance. The castrated and the castrator. Absurdity loosens the grip of the noose wrapped so tightly around my neck. It’s neck. The symbolic it that cannot breathe. Cannot breathe because it is wound so tight. Wound so tight is the pejorative phrase it fails to overcome. Overcoming this sense of delusion that it will be undone. Undone into a sense of calming perfection. Perfection is lost before it appears.
Modes of interaction present themselves CONSTANTLY yet it cowers inside, remaining isolated and with a lack of humanity. Humanity however is its only desire. The desire to love and be loved as the cliche so goes. So goes the cliche that humanity throws. Throws around like a campfire flame, flickering and flitting and fleeing responsibility to act in any such accordance of will. Fire does not have a will but we need it to survive. Humanities’ will needs us to survive. Therefore we must have a will. A will will will us to live amongst the flames, the free birds, the farmhands, the followers, the freedom fighters, the firefighters, the fists, and the fill-in-your-symbolic-categoricals here.
Act. Participate. Play. Experiment. Get outside. Invite others IN.
stillness is beautiful, meditative, oneness.
stillness is paralyzing, motionless, emptiness.
stillness is awake when you can’t sleep and still there when you awaken.
the stillness inside of depression is a mirror for the stillness within meditation.
the process looks similar, only the former looks at each accompanying edge as a separation – blades of sharp, cold, penetrating dangers/threats/failings. the latter looks at the same edges as layers of impermanence – just points of intersection for which we make choices about and carry on.
when i ask myself why i cannot heal, given tools from ancient wisdom, another motionless wave ascends upon me and drapes its icy waters atop my frostbitten skin.
when i listen to the wisdom and shut out the illusions of the crystallizing waves, my frigid fingers begin to tingle again and my senses regain.
i sit in stillness knowing that the distance between them is a choice.
this distance between the waves is twofold – a matter of infinitesimal space and also macroscopic expanse.
when we allow others to allow us to absolve our power we dissolve into them as though our pollen was only meant to exist in a fleeting moment then we try and stand alone, face the oceanic feeling, but something isn’t quite right
there is something to be said of unity – a grandiosity wherein all isness simply is and there is no separation between this and that – us and them – you and i
yet i contemplate the complexity required to have no sense of self in a universe of wholeness
back and forth, in and through i collapse and expand, awaiting the fine balance of the tao still – and still – there is an essence of uncertainty and inability to know
when should we hand ourselves over to an other in faith that we are all one when should we hold ourselves in such regard and see the infinite inside ourselves is there a difference?
are we all enablers?
i cannot speak of indefinite beingness
for there is no way to peer into my own soul
no matter how deep i plunge
the water is much too cold – cold enough to freeze – freeze the ocean tide
i shall not speak of beingness
my temporal fleeting mindscape
for i am not certain emotions lie outside the mind
nor sure that they lie within the body
if i wept upon that frozen sea, would it reflect and weep back at me?
if you wept upon that frozen sea, would you be weeping on it or me?