time’s pressing allegory
text from 08.07.2004 that still seems relevant today.
the new world. the journey has ’so-called’ begun. i sit and wander through this plantation, this field of some world that i used to be a part of. that i used to belong to, and now it all seems so foreign. i’m sitting looking across from myself, deciding who i am and where i am going.
nothing. nowhere.
i see “paintings of the month” on the wall and in a fit of jealousy i blame myself. i have become that pitiful person that people mock and laugh at. that person who hasn’t made artwork in months. my problem begins and ends at the same place. what do i make. who am i making it for. if these people don�t even get it and if the never get it, where am i to go? i sit and wander and mistake my own horror for disbelief and discontent. do i make war pieces? anti-government pieces? what does it all mean and what do i hope to achieve? where am i going?
the work that has sense seemed so meaningful and powerful. now, still seeming so, it has actually lost meaning and power for the shear fact that it has been done. i guess the more guessing and the less doing is never going to answer this question. more doing.