Creatures Of The Abyss

lookbusy jesus is watching

I dream in black; white and red. Recently I’ve had to force myself awake from my dreams; but the problems persist. My brain and it’s processing enjoys mocking my conscious mind; it always has done and I’m half used to it now. Except when my dreams feel more like life than my waking hours.

The other night I had to wake myself up from a dream that finished with “But how do you know that life is real and not just a dream”. I laid there in bed for an hour or so listening to my breathing trying to quiet my heart and encourage myself to believe that this was real. That I had woken up.

They’re always the same; other people who I’ve never met; worlds I don’t recognise all encouraging me to question if anything around me is real. It’s exhausting and sounds very similar to Inception; believe me I know. In a diary written in 2009 I complain that I need to wake up from life, that I need to do that by killing myself. The coincidence is creepy and left me concerned about the validity of the world around me.

But I bleed and that must mean I’m breathing.

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drawing on photos

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I seem to be encouraging one of my kittens to sleep on my pillows. This is probably going to come back at some point and bite me in the arse. She is only little at this moment; but kittens turn into cats and then I’ll be forced half-way down the bed while she relaxes above my head.

Which leads me on to a program I watched, called The Paw Project. I learnt a lot, but mostly that some people in America think that declawing a cat is perfectly ok; almost a necessity. It’s not. It’s disgusting, it’s wrong, it’s maiming; and I think you’re an idiot if you go anywhere near your cats claws with the aim of removing them. It’s down right cruel.

Source

The latest The Lights Are On… stop in the tour opens tonight. I’m excited and looking forward to the whole lot; photos will follow, they always do. Yet again; while making the works at one point; right bang in the middle of working to a deadline I did what I’m best at. I stopped. I stopped making works and just ignored the fact that opening night and exhibition dates were edging closer. Burying my head in the sand being rather scared that anything I made did not live up to my exacting standards.

This is not so much a problem; but definitely just the way things happen. I begin, I stop, I start again. The break in the middle if integral to so much of my artworks; allowing me the space and time to objectively look at what I’m creating. To step outside of myself and view it without the emotional attachment as best I can.

At lot of my life is like this too, the stop starting, jarring of activities, relationships and projects. I need that moment alone to appreciate the weight of what is happening around me, and I need that moment to listen to my body tell me if this is what I really want; because my instincts start screaming if I need to get out; and I’m always thankful.

Did you know, I’m not really here? I wrote this the other day, knowing that in this moment I needed to be with friends, talking about art, talking about feelings. I am not an island, and I never wanted to be anyway.

Digging Up The Marrow

Sauce

Digging Up The Marrow isn’t so scary, but it made me jump and it had me asking questions at the end, but when watching some of the extras on the DVD the origins of the film made me fall in love with every person involved.

I’m not a fan of horror movies as a rule. Not since I had a disastrous evening with Freddie Vs Jason, too much vodka and the belief that the cat we had at the time was going to kill me in my sleep.

Alex Pardee gave Adam Green a zine, and Adam Green decided that it would make an awesome under-cover-documetry-esq-film. Isn’t that amazing? I’m sure there are many artists out there that would love to see their ideas brought to life on a big screen. It’s so nice to watch a film that isn’t wholly based on CGI, as a youngster I feel in love with Jim Henson’s The Storyteller and DUTM reminds me of that. It’s a lovely demonstration of inspiration too, Pardee creates something inspired by Green; then Green does something inspired by Pardee.

I also really love that it was low-budget; using a sculptor and make-up artist (Greg Aronowitz and Robert Pendergast). The skill demonstrated in creating the monsters is obvious, Aronowitz is accomplished with clay and I’m so glad that I’ve had a peek at his work through Digging Up The Marrow.

There are a million (and more I’m sure) different ways to be an ‘artist'; and success will always look different; yet we all seem to be linked by the need to create. I’m ever so grateful that there is a wealth of talent out there to be inspired by; there are so.many artists out there creating because they need to. The directors, producers et al all wish to tap into our most fearful nightmares, the thing that goes bump in the night, the reason some of us will not sleep with our toes poking out the end of the duvet. It’s this imagination that consistently captures my attention, as someone with a wild imagination that spends at least an hour a day thinking about things that may never happen; I am overjoyed that I get to see others imaginary worlds.

The creation, the sharing, the ‘this is how I see the world’.

But do I believe in monsters? I used to believe in something, at one point when I was 21 I couldn’t look in a mirror, I refused to have them in my home and the one mirror that was stuck to the wall? I covered that with newspaper.

I also spent a long time being absolutely terrified that there was something following me, watching me. It was with me constantly; and I couldn’t see it, smell it, hear it, but I knew it was there and I knew it was angry with me. This malevolent force was keeping me up at night and making my skin crawl, but I can’t say it was a monster.

If monsters do exist; then the ones that I know of are nestled inside of me; primed and ready if I let my guard down. The monsters are machines (the more we are protected the more we’re trapped within). The monster is that life is cruel and awful things happen.

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Other Reviews: The Theory of Everything

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