Inside the Bug Jar
In a jar full of bugs,
I am agitated. On display
My actions and motives are questioned by
Waiting for the chance to dissect me and use me.
Abuse me and isolate my weaknesses
I must be deft and dexterous
Flexible and malleable
Able to adapt and function in all environments
My design must be flawless and innovative
Cohesive, yet groundbreaking
Eliminate the excess.
Don’t be the freak.
Make it the best.
Because no one remembers those who live in mediocrity.
The worker bees serve an elegant purpose.
Committed to one another as
Aiming to produce the best. The sweetest.
Don’t make a mistake because you must remember
Everyone is watching
In a room full of mirrors,
I see a thousand mistakes.
Changes I need to make
We need to make
I’ve said too much
I’ve seen too much
Yet not enough
Still looking for myself
In a world of constant change and
I am under the microscope
I’m reinventing myself
I’ll dye my hair
Blue and orange, green and gray
I’m every color
Then no color at all
I’m reinventing myself
I’ll dress the best
Maintain a look of confidence
Even though I’m frightened and ashamed
I’ll spritz that dark rum scent
Scent like sex
Yet my airs produce miasmic odors
An attractor and repellent
What do I need to do to see this through?
I want to fix the world but I can’t seem to fix myself
I need a shortcut
If only these mirrors could talk
In a puzzle with infinite pieces
I am in need of fresh air
But at least I’m finding grounding
In the lack of control
What started a storm with no foreseeable end
I am now in its eye
I am calm
The storm still persists, still rages
But I have a damn good umbrella
Like the bees, I’m still at work
Still dressed the best
I spritz my chest
To keep the lingering smell
That became my attractor
Yet now I discard this idea of supremacy
Perfection, a silly structure
A hierarchical mirage
I prefer to be the freak
To take my position in left field
I want to build something beautiful
But I sometimes forget the recipe
I am the baker and the chef,
But deft I am not
I’m making a mess, and it’s getting everywhere
And that’s fine with me
Food fights are fun
Perfection is a mirage
And in the a desert of opportunities
I’ll save my energy for fruitful excursions
The mirage will always disappear
And that’s fine with me.
The Red Hour
In the red hour, when the hot neon lights of the King House illuminate the vacant parking lot; I am wide awake. As I lay myself down on the cold, hard pavement, I feel a wonderful sense of quiet. Amid the silence of the night I begin the process of deciphering my mind. I feel as though we have so little time in our day to figure ourselves out. All decisions are made on the fly, for the moment we pause to analyze our actions, times passes us by. My mind feels like it's filled with spiders whose webs act as lingering reminders of my myriad concerns and anxieties. But every new day brings new ideas, people, and experiences that add more and more clutter to my mind. With every experience though, my mind adjusts, answering its own inquiries.
When I create new work, sometimes I feel as though my mind has created shapes and marks for my hands to follow. These decisions are made long before I even understand my subject. I have inherent moments of automation that help ease my over complicated thought process.
The fear of making mistakes used to eat me alive like a helpless fly caught in the spider's web until I realized that errors are tricks of the psyche created by the mind to scare us away from embracing the weird and yielding to our imperfections.
My goodness gracious, the subconscious mind I a beautiful fucking enigma.
This fascination with psychology definitely has lead me into a whirlwind of directions as I envisioned my latest installation of paintings. I am at this stage in my life where I finally am beginning to come to terms with who I am. I still have so many questions, some that will probably never be answered.
At least now I know how to free myself from the pressure of the unknown and just move on. To attack each problem one by one, slowly understanding each one a little more in the process is the core theme behind this work. How the mind explains things to us is a barreling impetus that keeps me creating. But, all creative forces are susceptible to stoppages at some point in the process. An event, typically one of considerable gravity halts this momentum sending the creator into a dizzying state of confusion. These unpredictable road blocks are what I like to call kinks in the hose. And trust me, my mind is no stranger to these little bastards. I'd say my mine looks like a balloon animal with the excessive twists and turns. The best part of the creative process though is the maze. To struggle with your mind does not mean you are weak, but quite the opposite actually .
See, the more we try and fight to untangle ourselves, the closer we are getting to finding our truest forms. I guess for me it's just this battle to escape the labyrinth that stands as the nucleus of this show.
I open myself up for you all in an effort to discover my truest self.
To reach the ultimate clarity amongst all the chaos.
Death of a Fool
And as the king's court were incapacitated by fits of wanton laughter, the jester helplessly asphyxiated on his own colorful scarves. His existence remained only for sport and hedonistic entertainment and his own fabrications, although steadfast; were exceeded and overcome by his foolish imagination.