Hereaclitus

The last 25 years of my work as an artist were about, trying to be an artist, trying to be an art teacher, an art therapist and just survive as a creative being in this world. They are valiant, shimmering, and unyielding and not necessary anymore. For they used to flicker in and out of these pages, and in webs, through paintings, hundreds of videos, and thousands of performances in spaces of my mind and also in cities, on rooftops, in storefronts, galleries, DIY spaces, and on the tops of mountains. The works however gifted and shiny only speak to the disorder in my brain, the chaos in my studio that leaked out of the borders of my personal and professional life. In my work there is the pain of trying, too hard, and creating personas to try even harder, to transcend the self, and yet the dysfunction still prevailed. As I grasped towards smooth edges only to slip further into depressions, anxieties, dissociations, flash backs, hyper-vigilance, manic activity, selfishness, nihilism, and deep seeded self hatred, self destruction, and self doubt. "I tried", I told myself and yet the madness was always there, and it was driven by the denial and the shame, the dis-ease like a run away train, and the dis-embodiment, a speeding vehicle, the longing a twisting snake, like a tunnel into the desire, like a hole. All the breaking apart and fusing the pieces together, the years of the soldiering on, and decades of neurotic art making, to just further expose the ritualistic ego defending years of trying, making, creating and asking for help, from the work, the creative process......and asking for help from professionals from anyone, really accept myself. Once I finally was ready to have that conversation with my self as a soul. Asking myself, "soul what are you doing", "what do you want", and "what is this story you are playing out" The self as a protagonist, the self, as a window, a door, a horizon, the self as a space, the self as a possibility, as endless as the pain. That is when I began again, and that birthed a dialogical process of interacting with my art, seeing my wounds, and my past as material in an expanded conversation, and then I really let go, and thats when I heard the birds.

>>>><<<<<

This is my story

Of how I learned from pain and how to use my art to heal parts of myself, my psyche, my wounds, and develop a new body of work that oozes of transformation, strength and vision. Because I learned to accept the disconnections, love the diagnosis, revel in the depth of my "trying" as an art form. I pioneered rather then soldiered, I slowed down to reflect, to synthesize and to see I had made a diamond from the roughs. A diamond informed by passionate cutting, smoothing, refracting, sparkling, time, pressure, heat, and dizzying changes. My work shines brightly now with refractions because I am now lighting my own way, not expecting the artwork or a creative process to save me. "Art is the metaphysical supplement to reality" as Neitzche has said but we have to be in "reality" in order to have a supplementary experience of it.

As an artist I am interested in realities, perceptions of time, be-comings, and be-ing in and out of time at the same time. Which means I am interested in the spaces between spaces, which is desire, and the liminal space in between words and worlds, bird whistles and screams, dreams, and visions, self and other.


Here

2018