08/03/21

A notice caught my eye informing me on this day seven years ago I was building a pickle juice tea party.

This tea party would be for a student film, which in the end was chock full of technical errors and followed a narrative quality which was well, that of a student early on in their practice. Errors and quality aside, this film still holds weight as one of the first pieces I could ever admit to being proud of. Though, at the time, I would still be fighting the internal need for a tactile medium this was the first glimpse into finding my voice and witnessing its power to communicate. To sit here and say I find pride in something so full of flaws is a big step worth its own commemoration. It is not a natural perspective but one I hope to hold on to as I continue to explore both to the future and through the past. 

11/29/20

When I approach this space it is with a question of what have I been exploring lately.

Its original intention being a place of odd thoughts and mental discoveries found while working in studio. Something I did not consider were the inevitable periods when life sinks into each corner of the mind. Overtaking every free thought and leaving little room for the unemotional and unattached explorations I had anticipated sharing here. It came quickly after lending this invitation into my habitually private headspace and has left me questioning how to approach such circumstance. Instinct screams to recede deep into a dark hole of self and silence. This only being strengthened further by the state of the world today. This is not a time to talk about one’s self. A sentence I find rears its head whenever I consider letting this out into the world. That being said, I come to this space feeling purposefully dishonest when I try to write anything else and the silence only darkens an overhanging cloud of failure at the first hiccup in this new journey. 

Some know, though most don’t, that I’ve spent this past year intensively seeking a diagnosis for an array of symptoms that start, but do not end with, daily episodes of widespread pain. Last month, I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. It felt ravenously bittersweet to have the milestone of diagnosis met with something so vague and without any real knowledge on cause, treatment, or management. I try to focus on the accomplishment of knowing though it comes with so many more unknowns. There is no good way to tell someone you’ve been diagnosed with a chronic illness that is completely invisible externally and on some days can take up all your energy to appear as if you’re not being ravaged internally. It just doesn’t work it’s way into small talk well. In full transparency, there has been an equal tipping of the scale between highs and lows but I am honestly excited to be working towards days with better management and understanding. This experience is inevitably forcing a lifestyle where health and comfort need a necessary intention. It is something I quite honestly should have done sooner, this isn’t new knowledge. Though, I find I’m questioning often why holding your health above the day to day hustle feels so frivolous. 

This is what has truly been on my mind. I’ve not spent much time in studio, opting instead for research, lifestyle changes, and alternative treatment. Although it goes against every inch of my instinct, coming here with any bit of traditional studio productivity feels fictitious and distorted. This past week I’ve felt the pull of studio as a form of escape and I expect as I settle into these changes studio will quickly feel familiar again. I’ve adopted the wording, “This is today.” which I apply to the daily battle of erratic physical and mental levels. It is usually followed by some variance of, “and that is enough.” An entirely foreign concept in opposition to the thought process I’ve been raised on which always pushes, past levels of exhaustion, for more. It feels unnatural but also comforting. It reminds me that we are all ever-changing beings moving through different versions of self. Some days you find the words to share deep inner shit and some days you crawl into a dark hole but in both instances you are enough. 

06/20/20

Another Heathen Brunch has come and gone. 

Our yearly gathering of breakfast foods, cocktails, and Nicholas Cage egg hunts was forcibly altered to fit the current inverted positioning of the world. We came together digitally, which still allowed for plenty of cocktails and conversation but lacked much of a format to rifle through someone else’s things looking for goodies. The world is a weird place right now. It only felt fitting that this year’s Heathen Brunch egg hunt be replaced by something equally bizarre.

These Apocalyptic Identity cards and their matching End of Days prophetic scrolls took three times longer to make than I had originally anticipated. During that time I found myself coming to the same line of questions again and again. It always started with, “Why am I putting so much effort into a seemingly meaningless project?”. It wasn’t meaningless, but its sole purpose was just to make a few people smile. Although important and necessary for the world, such a purpose doesn’t seem to read on your average scale of productivity. Which leads me, even now, to the same question this line of thought always ended with, “Why the fuck not?”. I don’t understand where Just Because fell off as far as acceptable reasoning. I assume it was around the time we were all forced to cite sources simply to prove a statement was deemed societally accurate. More than asking why the world doesn’t jump on this Just Because bandwagon, I’m questioning why I haven’t before now. This project, in particular, brought along an unexpected benefit stepping out of this sea of endless writings to work in a tactile format mapped out from start to end. Its deadline conjuring a little cheer and feeling of accomplishment, a wonderfully dusty notion when you’ve spent the past few years diving deep into progressing writing and plans. Just Because is a delightfully simple concept and yet I’m having to reprogram my brain to fully comprehend it. This has me thinking about what other parts of life could benefit from Just Because reasoning and if there are others who also feel impossibly unacquainted with such simplicity.  

04/21/20

What sound do you most recall falling asleep to as a child?

Had you recognized before this moment that at some point in your life you left it behind and since have either slept better or worse without it?

I can’t say exactly where these thoughts originate but they have sat looming in the back of my mind ever since. One evening, I found myself suddenly craving the crickets that used to live just outside my bedroom. The head of my bed met two windows that faced out onto a porch surrounded by bushes filled with critters of all kinds. In the summer, with the windows open I would fall asleep focused on the rhythm of the crickets and cicadas. That night, I opened my window curious to know what comforting soundscapes I’ve overlooked in this space. I was met with a man yelling belligerently on the street. So there’s that.

I’m questioning what sense of comfort or unease could be summoned by artificially playing such a sound outside of its original setting. One I’m continuing to explore but having trouble finding the right material. In a frustrating few days of searching, I’ve noticed most cricket + cicada soundscapes focus on a broad forest-like scale, a completely different composition than the few crickets I heard filling my neighborhood. Many so clearly mislabeled as evening or night, leave me angrily focused on birds that so desperately do not belong in this scene. A level of frustration that has led me to consider sneaking back to my childhood home and hiding a mic on the porch. I promise I’m not going to do that. I’m still searching, which makes me question if such recreation is inexistent outside of the memory where it lives. I’ve found one that sounds close but I hesitate to call it spot-on. I can’t say whether that is a lacking in the sound itself or an illustration of how fickle our memories are to begin with. It’s nice though, all the same.

04/04/20

A switch has flipped, somewhere. 

I find myself in a headspace each year as the calendar approaches April that is often not kind or helpful. I recall particularly cruel thoughts from last Spring, which as I revisit now I’m finding to be complete and utter bullshit. It has been five years since I’ve produced work for the world. An aging anniversary that usually comes dripping with a bitter marinade of guilt and self-loathing. Such a statement entirely dismisses unseen triumphs that should be, at least internally, celebrated. In those five years, I’ve explored this work through a commercial lens, built a thriving independent studio practice, and written a number of pieces that will one day be brought to life. I’m recognizing pieces written in the past year are some of the best I’ve ever dreamt up, a success entirely owed to the time I’ve taken for the work to mature. Most surprisingly, I’m noticing an unintentional testing of language that inherently searches for a way to talk about this work while still in its infancy. A switch has flipped, illuminating an uncharacteristic desire to share with the world. There will be a day when pieces are built and showcased in all their glory but that does not diminish the pride I have for the work as it stands today. I’ll be using this place to explore this awareness with the questions, thoughts, imagery, rabbit holes I’m adventuring each week. With this I am extending an eternal invitation; if you see something that resonates, excites, enrages, or tickles you, let’s talk about it.

03/29/20

Blah blah art stuff.