incurable disease

I think we carry a lot of subconscious stuff about our bodies, and most don't consciously deal with this relationship to themselves as well as they should. A lot of people project what they want or need coming from something or someone external when yet it's something far different than that. Now more than ever, I think I'm closer to just recalling the absence that something is missing. I don't know what it is, but it's there, it's my own personal story about the absence of order or the absence of self-awareness which will allow me to feel more at home in the world. Yesterday there was a unquestionable whole about myself that I had to deal with in regards to the relationship between my body and the world... so, I had a tattoo done. One of soon to be many I'm certain. It was quite exciting.

I should be painting right now. But I’m not. I'm blogging. I’m lazy like that. I haven’t picked up a tube of paint and painted anything since early this week. Not that I’ve forgotten, just that I really should be putting some time in brushing up. To be honest, sometimes it’s fun.

Weekends of random disappointment and pleasant surprises. This may come as no surprise, but art without the benefit of outside funding is not financially viable. It is a frightening prospect especially for those who deviate from urban pop-art to say... my work for example, that is entirely edgy but simultaneously three-dimensional. Even to the most principal expert, or most passionate of artist, none of the above at all have a lavish means to an end in the pursuit of this interest. But when you have an implicit understranding of this and remain incurable to your ambition of creating... you'll be more effective in your own uniqueness and content in your own excellence.

The latest show I had at the Mercury Lounge did not have one of the most successful sale results in my 5 month history. But if the success of the last art show can be measured in more than dollars than I must say that it was another big hit... oh hell, who am I kidding. Despite the turning in circles along with the scratching of heads with respect to people trying to find meaning and intent in my artwork, I did receive plenty feedback from other artists alike. Unfortunately, there is always going to be this schizophrenic approach to the focus of my art. I really find it spreads the quality of work way too thin.

I remember when I was a first time participant in Ottawa's art scene, through this duration I have had a lot to absorb and still a lot to overcome to finally observe significant changes in myself. You can say I've been going from being quiet and observing to being very involved in participating and creating. When it comes to selling my work, it's one thing to have the ability to produce it but it's entirely another realm when it comes to describing it. For some it's not so hard, for others it becomes this inexplicable element. For art to be bought into, your role is to imbue some kind of poetic content and social mission upon others. Otherwise what you've produced is a shell without a soul. If you have courage of your convictions, very few people will disagree with you. If you really believe in what you speak of, the world listens and generally follows suit. I haven't had many very good experiences that way. My biggest failing at life is my inability to have sufficent faith in myself and in humanity to believe that it can make a difference. People skills, go figure.

gloomy kids rejoice

'Sorry to have kept you waiting'. These are the words of a formulated apology, to myself and to others. I've been perpetually trying to catch up rather than lead at my own life as I chronically lag behind these foreign components of a machine. I've been encountering a number of people and I've been nothing but bogged down and reduced to simple assertion throughout various situations. Perhaps, for now it would be for the best if I step back and gather myself until I get the answers right.

When this year had opened I had the intention of cultivating myself. Surely, I am by all accounts a bundle of nerves, rooting with insecurities and vulnerablities. A month ago from today I was moved to the conclusion that my relationship with Sharon must end. For months it was led with the sort of analysis of contempt. A poor and bitter guy weighing in on the prosperous and confident girl. Despite the superficial differences, we were becoming more and more distant. There was a constant emphases on changes round the clock.

All the arguments were moot. Even in the ways we faltered from one another. She was raised in affluence and would not accept what her parents did or have them projected into her own traits. I can see she is looking for a much better deal than what she put up with. Call it the mechanisms of control, government, bureaucratic guidance, big industrial combines, parents, whatever you want to call it, she is running away from it and open to reaching her limits whether it brings her half way across this forsaken world or not. In time I found us missing. When it came down to it, I was considerably tired of the bickering, tired of the dependence... just overall tired and ready to consider other options. So we called it off on a mutual decision, and after a month, in contrast or comparison, she is on the verge of even more rapid changes than even I can demonstrate.

Now, somehow I feel as though I'm moving in a direction of more and more frustration. Everynight, when I come home my body falls apart. Everyday, when I'm awake my body cries like a child experiencing something terrible, a challenge to innocence.

Overwhelmingly enough, I wish I could say that my first experience in displaying art at the Mercury Lounge for Collective Seen VII was uplifting and driven by experience. But what can I say, it was a night for the Gloomy kids to rejoice in what was our own depressing disintegration of ourselves with the use of music, poetry and artwork. I would explain to some of them that I overtly tried to paint the darkest images I could imagine. Besides my art allowing some people to wallow in grief, obviously most of them did not get the message. In fact, I don't think too many people can relate to my art that's purely a release of negative energy. But what I don't get is how people can be devoid of all the suffering and morbidity in my work and read things only at face value, for example, the zipper mouth on rhytidectomy is about as much anyone can say they like. I know I'm in need of developing my capacity of Emotional Intelligence (EI). Something about my interactions with others doesn't seem entirely human, it's just that I don't think life is all that it's cracked up to be and whenever I share that with someone I receive a real lack of empathy. I need a connection. Without it I'm lost.

As an artist you sacrifice a lot of yourself. My health is diminishing at a crazy rate. The longer I get into this routine, my body goes with it. If only I could take another breathe to elaborate on my thoughts. But I'd rather contemplate the detrimental red button. The red button that is ready to go self-destructive to paralyzing extremes, rather than converting these impulses into a tool of realized art.

basement art attack

I'm not even sure if I sleep anymore. I believe that I only shut my eyes only to begin a mental breakdown just inside of me. It leaves me feeling sick and tired in so many ways that it can be very hard to embrace any new grounds at all really. As a result, I'm not that engaged into the aspects of anything exterior. For instance, the political art world. I think I am becoming more and more familar and yet more foreign to it at the same time. It's difficult to explain. As I warned, no doubt the exhibition became the version most believed to be accurate in my last post.

Last Saturday evening I arrvied at the Babylon Nightclub for Bonanza II. It was my 3rd show and 2nd art display at this venue since September 2007. Given the likelihood of the scenario, first you may think 'Yeah, Babylon Nightclub, what a drabby layout.'. In all the honesty and forthrightness concerned, you would wonder: who is this guy thinking he could get involved into the 'art world' through a such place that mainly caters to... alcoholics? I do have to say, a plethora of people do actually attend whether they cater to the toxic beverages or not... but personally I'm not seeing how it attributes easily to the sale of art. Some would be especially hard pressed to believe anything of a completly different visual motif would come to life straight from the depths of a nightclub. But if you have attended or have the intention of doing so, it can't be argued that there is a wide range of young and very talented artists right here in Ottawa that can or already are generating a stir in the world of artistic expression and exploration. Today, it is places like these where on occassion, you can find a generation of new artists.



So you know, my prints are now available: 4" x 6" in. ($20) and 11" x 14" in. ($40) sizes. I have to thank the professional effort by my print-photographer, Andre Paquette who has done a amazing job this past week. Anyone who has seen my paintings would realize that there are a lot of layers to be lost if one were to only stare at just a photograph of them. Despite the heavy texture he still managed to retain the purity of my work quite well. To each of you who appreciated my art display, I can't thank you enough. Be sure to get in touch or make it to my next show. I have a couple in arrangement perhaps this month and in February at the Mercury Lounge. I'll post more information when I get the details. Until then, it's in and out on a routine basis. Patiently waiting...