u n um ti
continuum i s a collection of w riting f ocusing on t he proces s befor e produc tion. But mostly, i t is a collection of m y thought s and feelings c oncernin g my a rtistic work studies .
I h a v e done a lot of work which represen ts a visua l di sorder that is actual-
ly the representation of
a a mental order. It is just a question of know ing
the rules of the game. So meone who doesn t know
them will never see the order that regins within things. It s like looking at a stary sky. Someone who does not know the makeup of the stars will only see con fusi on, whereas an astronomer will have t
a v ery clear vision of n
my work is mostly a response to visual culture. my work presents questions that create a concept for the viewer to understand. i want to provoke a visual disorder that makes your eyes shake. my work process is a personal nirvana that evolves with each piece i create. over the past four years i have created a narrative that will never complete. my work consists of intricate linework, patterns and typographic studies.
I recall once on the church steps, when i moved to kiss your chest, how we paid such close attention to each sweet and stuttered breath. I should’ve stopped to paint our picture, captured honest pure affection, just to document the difference between attraction and connection. I can see all of my friend and I break into empty buildings when the coast was clear, with backpacks full of beer; we’d throw out bottles from the rooftops at this city-it looked endless. Guess I still don’t see the difference between real purpose and that ugrent adolescense. And I remember in a basement sharing sweat with all these stranger boys and girls; “ we’ll change the world” we sang “we’ll change the world”,
but nothing seems to change and they say none of them will listen but I still see much more power in that bastment than in heartless politicians. And if we get beaten by this winter, if we get strangled by regret, just let our love of life and tension gasp in sweet and stuttered breaths. And have them lay us in the bastment. smash some bottles to the ground, and say we couldn’t tell the difference between the feeling and the sound. Remember not our faulty pieces, remember not our rusty parts, it’s not the petty imperfections that define us but the way we hold our hearts. And the way we hold our heads, I hope they write your name beside mine on my gravestone when i’m dead. And when we’re dead let our voices carry on to find a better song. To find a better song and sing along.
Published on Nov 7, 2012