It’s been almost a year since I’ve used this blog space or even my website for that matter. My Instagram has been abandoned like a western ghost town after the gold ran out.
The pandemic really shifted things into a blurry focus. A lot became clear while other revelations were not so vivid. Some of the realizations were painful and required deconstruction and rebuilding. So many things shattered before us. In ways, I’m glad they did.
Rebirth & deliverance has been on my mind lately and their themes have followed me on airplanes in random books I’ve been recommended, on streets while I lock eyes with strangers, on the internet in unexpected corners. Rebirth for society, rebirth for self.
Out of desperation during this time, I chose art. I think of art when cooking or being fed, I think of art in furniture, in the architecture of our buildings, I think of art when I am in conversation with others, when I take care of others beings, when I take care of myself. Art became the glassware in our apartment, the way I pour my friends wine, the way I embrace others when time has created a distance between us but our love has kept us close in range. I think of art when writing, when planning trips. And because I think of art so frequently, I found myself rarely “making” art.
Artists are dramatic. Scratch that, humans are dramatic but artists are naturally prone to ego centric crippling nostalgia that being in prolonged periods of not making art can feel like a betrayal and can feel as if you have been living artless. A betrayal to whom though? Who misses out when we aren’t creating? I think we all suffer, really. And our eyes have been opened to such pain and horror that it feels time, for me at least, to begin again. To reflect on the current state of the world and the need for art. I do so first by returning to spaces I have been estranged from.
Below are a group of photos & concepts that sums up where my mind and head are heading.