the monstrous dark

A chance to encounter a partially demolished portal. In it there exists the behavioural sub-conscious incorporated into our every day cerebreal construct. The all seeing and all knowing origin of it that one may call infancy. Which most of us forget entirely. When a child for instance, sees for the first time a great painting or a listens to a symphony for the first time, something is born. Naturally a sensation is captured, all else whether it was a visual element or a rhythm becomes unmanageably ghost-like. The essence of innocence before the awareness of premonitory vision filled with anxieties...

Soon I'll encounter another evening where I'll discover objects floating amongst one another in my nearby space. They're all barely perceptible, as believable as it seems, to the fantastical nature of considerable visceral debris, glitter, and unexpected. As such, I imagine I'll re-conceive the settings and questions of both our expectations. That of my paintings seemingly born out of the monstrous dark that I've affirmed in myself. Works verging on the insanity of a deadly disorder. In thoughtful silence, it's not surprising to think that these works are based on dangerously oversensitive emotion substantiated from death and rejection. What else can it be clearly derived from, really? Other than the augmented symbols of my mortality.