Late Spring, 9:25 am
A man with a bruised and battered frame rolls into his driveway. The frame needs an update, they said it would.
Sitting at his desk, he pushes the frame to keep up the creating. Forcing what ought not be forced. It’s spaghetti for supper again. The disappointment is severe.
One foot in front of the other. He discovers something seemingly peculiar. His third foot exhibits a limp. Why does this seem strange…
The bemused frown of perplexed bebafflement as a strand slips from between his fork prongs. He tuts naught but a solitary word as a response;
Extracting his limbs from the seated position, he goes for a run. Since when has dinner been served at midday?
Artistic practice is inherently and continuously shifting, growing, and changing. During the last few years, I have developed a proclivity for certain aspects of the making process, and I suppose it is these most recent aspects that best encompass my most ‘current’ art. I have become enamoured with text-based work. Using text to capture personal experience and deeper mullings/ruminations – the Quotidian moment. This is where the main focus of my creation manifests. Allow yourself to become hyperaware of the Quotidian moment.
Fifth, July 2021
It charged suddenly. Charged us down and trampled us.
Sudden and aggressive in its approach, we never really stood a chance. ‘Only a matter of time’ someone in the back had said. The charging, while arguably inevitable, was also an expressly liberating act. I would not jump out of the way of that charge had I seen it coming from a mile away.
Freedom of release and expression came about as the result of the head-on collision. One hospitalised : a lad with skinny legs.
Charging onwards, it drags my body behind. Entrails ripping across the floor, this is true bliss, being caught up in the inescapable.