Artist Statement 2024

 Artists Statement 2024

Throwing away the paintings I did when I had low self esteem, feelings of worthlessness, depression, living in the city. Throwing them away is the final stage of release of that trauma. Letting go of that part of my life. 

Along with it comes the throwing away of all the boxes of card-stock and cardboard stockpiled for painting and crafting projects. At the time it felt I did not have time to do everything I wanted to do. However, I did not know that in the pressure-stress of thinking I had run out of time already. 

The huge problem was other people interrupting me. Other people getting in the way with unhelpful comments about how my creative process is a psychological disorder. It’s not a psychological disorder; they are. They are impacting me negatively and disrupting my productivity. When they supersede it damages my self-esteem and prevents me finishing my art. When I ignore them I win because I have confidence from being productive. My purpose of being alive is as an artist, not as a punchbag for negative peoples superiority disorders and power games. I would have been more productive had they simply left me alone to get on with it my way instead of criticising me for doing it my way. 

Throwing away the art which did get finished, because it had attachments to a negative time of my life when I had less self belief, is cathartic. While it does mean a potential loss of income - the one picture stored here which I did show someone else won me a £2K bursary; to put estimated value on the other pictures, most of which nobody else has ever seen. They’re all taking up a room full of space in my house which is considered to be a mental disorder of hoarding by most people who are aware of the situation. People who don’t care enough to actually ask to see the paintings it must be added. 

The process of making art is recognised as a form of therapy and as skills study, which is more valid to the artist than are the finished objects. I studied the Fine Arts at honours degree level. While the paintings do have commercial value and would boost the local economy if they were to be advertised and sold, too many people have been derogatory to me for me to have any incentive to empower those peoples nation and culture. As far as empowering myself is concerned, I need to segregate myself from any attachments from the previous art and craft materials so that other people will accept me instead of describing me as mentally unwell for hoarding. The art has multi-level attachments to my negative self-esteem. I am told the filling of my space with clutter is a psychiatric disorder by people who I do not show my paintings to because I do not trust them to see the paintings after they grind me down instead of accepting how lifestyle is fundamental to productivity and that an artists studio requires materials and resources stored there along with finished works, to create art with. 

So it is no loss to me to throw my art out, or the resources required to make more of it. Other living local artists only want the unused paints for themselves and their kids instead of respecting my art and my need for making it. Nobody cares about the finished art anyway. I used to but I’ve got the hint from social pressure. It’s abnormal. This has liberated me to see all artists for what they are, and what I used to be myself. Art is a product of mental abnormality. All works of art are distractions and delusions no matter what the financial value placed on them by delusional people. 

This decision is liberating for me. To detox from the person I was, someone who struggled to make art and struggled for it to be accepted. By destroying it all, I am more likely to be accepted as a person. I can understand that now. It’s why the mental health people describe my collected sheets of cardboard stored to paint on when I get time, as an attachment disorder to junk, rather than as the tools of a working artist. They have got through to me. 

I would be better with an empty room and no desire to paint. No paintings stored and taking up space. The rare state worker who visits my house would feel comfortable there for all of ten minutes. Which is what this is all about after all. They are the authorities and are therefore the experts on how society should be, to improve it. The problems they cause me will go away. 

By burning them all, I am liberated from all the toxic energies thrown at me by other people. All my charcoal drawings. All my acrylic paintings. They’re bad. They have been bad for me. They are bad for the community. The imagery will be default be bad for the community. They symbolise struggle, depression, repression, toxic rejection of corporate control. They do not symbolise hope, aspiration, success, acceptance, purity. 

Twenty-five years worth of my creative output. It will require a few days of bonfires. I will release to the great spirit all which I have been to purify my way forwards. 

I will be free, I will be happy. People will accept me and say I have healed. I no longer need to make art. I no longer need to waste any more of my energy and time living in a delusion. 

The lesson I have learned is to recognise artists for what they are now. I know because I have evolved beyond that level of awareness into becoming something else. Artists are broken because they do not conform. I accept that to fit in, I must conform. We all should. 

Zen. 

All we need to do is breathe 

until we leave this body. 

It is the greatest inspiration of all. 

Stream and Symbol Waking Dream

Preface

The 3D art for tRust universe is built using grayscale because it is easy on the eye. One major influence into it is urban architecture, and the very greatest feature of urban architecture which summarizes twentieth century industry and urban decadence and inevitable decay is graffiti stained concrete. As we emerge out of the mechanical twentieth century world war technology and into twenty first century digital technology we are on the verge of touch sensitive holographic projections, although we have inherited a concrete infrastructure, now decaying and soaked with generations of carbon monoxide grime. Although tRust utilizes a theoretical technology of digital polymer, which looks and feels more like tyre material, with ability to project holograms from its pixelated sprayon surface; the origin of its concept in concrete is deeply etched and embedded into the core of its development process. As an artist I am working on multiple levels of creativity at once. The landscape, scarred and patched with generations of use, refers all at once to multiple levels of awareness. It is a dreamscape and the observer alone defines or is defined by it. The landscape of tRust is intentionally malleable; from sprayon and dissolvent conduits and chambers to computer-operated shape-shifting surfaces. The concrete reformations, reinterpretations and ressurrections of mayan glyphs, aegyptian stellae, cambodian buddhist temples, continues and permeates into the future in form of nano-particulate materials we can envisage but are only as yet on the brink of inventing. What I am influenced by and what is practical for me and others like me to develop as an artist is one plane; the imaginal environments and cultures dwelling within them for science fiction is another. These places combine and fuse in Dreamspace. The project is becoming real because I am going there in dream and meeting others who are co-creating it. Events sourced from dream are simultaneously making sense of the project and educating me with insight into the true nature of the reality construct, itself following laws of physics for which concrete and light become symbolism. Tattoos upon skin; concepts upon neural networks; graffiti upon walls; lazers upon cytex. 

Notes from the hour pre-dreaming

I studied carlos casteneda, yaqui way of knowledge. Humans only purpose is to observe. When we place a label onto a thing we see only that label. Therefore to observe we must do so without preconception. When the observer changes the observed, it is by projection of preconceptions onto it. To observe without projecting is a trained skill. It functions by detachment from mind. This discipline is constant. Only when we can detach from mind do we recognise mind for what it is. Mind is not self. It is a filter system that uses a trick to distract us from observing purely. It convinces us to use its filters, its method for this is to change the focal point of awareness every time we escape its grip. Distraction of Attention. That is the greatest enemy to attaining real practical knowledge about our experience of living. Everything else is confusion, what the buddhists call sansara. The conditioned mind, the confused mind. They teach to meditate as a method of escaping it, to focus only on breathing. The result is the same: if the mind is not the self, what is it? What could be achieved if the inner monologue is silenced, if the distractor is no longer an issue? Our notion of cause and effect dissolves and takes on a new meaning. Zen no-mind. And development; if the thoughts do not originate from self, then from where or from whom do they originate? The essenes teach that at this stage of awareness one no longer needs discern between embodied and disembodied consciousnesses, that there is a far greater difference between those in sansara and those who see purely, in satori, than there is between the physically living and dead. The language shifts its meaning to describe the observed more accurately, more relevantly. In buddhism the word prana means both instinct (intuition) and life flow. The pure observer simply is. Freedom from delusional associations. Language is delusional. There is one truth, it is knowable; sharing this we need not to talk, only to feel. It is an enhanced reality. Reason tells us this state is desirable and worth pursuing through the hard work of ego death and all the pain involved in losing everything we hold onto by projecting it. Reason also tells us the need to compromise it so as to survive in mainstream society. Integrity, an honor code based on ability to integrate. We cannot know it until we have lived without honor. The paradox of the world, the fundamentalism of righteousness, and the pure unspoken truth.

Distracted, I lost my focus, laughs

Notes from the hour post-dreaming

Part of the dream, the landscape, simply is my brain re-arranging the themes I have been working with a lot lately, which are syncronistic based around current lines of research and drawing those symbols towards my life.

But some of the dream content is from Otherwhere. The revelations about howbit connects together is one layer. The actual story, scant though the relationship between incidents is, also several layers. To use one level of awareness to program the other is a part if the job. I was sent in to do a specific mission due to my innate nature, the result being something I would figure out only afterward. We all emit a signiture tone and these tones sharpened into focus by our attention, are waves, they change the perceptions and decisions of those untrained. This was my second trip to the same scene and the memory linger of my original entry was fresh, a concern to my handler. Dream is frail and especially in a new world. None of the souls there are fully yet aware of what the new place is all about, a few creatives and the inevitable security agents of nothing, necessary antagonists seeking to prevent our growth simply to sharpen our focus by being a grindstone. I had to witness an amazing event and remain emotionally unnaffected by it so I could send out a mental wave that nothing was happening. The observer affects the observed is a rule of dream physics. Our projected expectations become the hardwired physical environment, the weak willed zombies act upon such decisions. The swat team pulled out and the space opened up, the runners had mental freedom to explore the anomoly, a gate which would enhance this world, develop and strengthen it, our way, my way, the coalition of souls who are unaware in our waking mundane lives that we have tasks to grow the multiverse during dream. Creativity is opening a world here. I met the injured soul of this world, a blue dragonfly lady with an airhorse daemon. Her type exist! Co-creators from elsewhere in dreaming, with power and ability but with frailty, the fae folk. She lets her heart play in unformed new domains, this concrete maze city waiting to awaken. There is much mystery here, sleepers in their lives, fearful of the control state and fearful of it ceasing because without it, like the madmax style explorers at the portal, we are on our own in a realm where myth is breaking through, the responsibility that self hate and doubt affect and twist the manifesting world so potently. Only pure souls can access here at this time and we want to protect it, nurture its development, so as not to turn it into yet another hell world. There is so much hope here. A place where hope is hardened and matures into confident ability. We are new here and only learning of its nature, its personality. Our belief about it takes hold and strengthens it, affects the lives of its denizens as yet unborn. The militia has left the portal. Unwatched it may open freely to its true potential, not to corrupted comprimise to serve their purpose of limitation. I was not the one to open the portal this time, merely protect those who needed to establish contact through it. My presence alone did this. If they succeed, if the portal opens and is safe, it brings life to this place. The feeling of trapped, scrutinised, chased, persecuted, is lessened here so the creatives can develop and grow. From gray concrete to blue dragonfly, art nouveau machines. Breathing fully of fresh clean air. Get the machines up and running. The sounds of this world are beautiful. 

Servitors, angels, Re the winged women, quetzalcoatl as ishtar, access higher consciousness, maintain simplicity to comprehend complexity is what gives rise to servitor as slaver, gridding the sleek to merovingian block construxt experiences, it takes generations of time to overcome by developing workarounds and progress, new types of servitor emerge or the old ones learn new tricks or move to places better for them. 

Voicenotes from the hour post dreaming

blue concrete 1



blue concrete 2


Notes from Google+ same timeframe 16.8.14

Boredom leads to escapism leads to obsessive focus leads to breakthrough and development. I am polymath and that is necessary to achieve the level. What I am working on is pretty big. It will take me a few more days to collate the data crunch of the last few. Expressing it, sharing it, by telling it as it is is one thing, doing something artful with that is another. Creating mythos from where a lot of the revelation is sourced, it entwines. I provaricate here due to need for re-focus. Breathing space.
A woman bought me a meal tonight. I am useless with women, is she simply a kind heart looking for friendship and I am being sleazy or was being comfortable to relax and feel horny in her presence a mutual and natural shared feeling? I probably should have been natural and hugged her. Too used to being aloof and not wanting to pressure her and scare away a fledgling friendship.
Its a beautiful distraction from the project.
The project. Celtic otherworld meets post-cyberpunk. I dreamed last night and met with others in the levels of dream who know what is going on more than do I, and I now know what is going on more than most of the people in terran consumerism. There is insufficient cultural reference for me to use to explain it without recoursing to old traditions which nobody has publically discussed for several centuries. This is illuminatii knowledge from secret societies. For me it is a major breakthrough with my research and I am grateful to my handler for her role in my development. Explaining it lucidly to people who are culturally and conceptually unprepared for shamanic revelation seems both necessary and disconcerting. It has to be done right, information has to be released through the right channels, people need preparing to accept insights such as this. Its nothing new because we all know the truth of it. Yet its exciting to access that insight into reality. Dare I release my voicenotes and writing on the subject for public consumption? Back to preparing blogs that are windows as much as teaching tools into the streams which, where they cross at just such a point, offer a gate. In simplest terms, follow instinct over mind if you want to evolve.

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