Small things made today

Words for a zine on freedom and a painting of a skull

Freedom is real.

Experiencing freedom is an impossibility.

To experience freedom we require language.

Language has rules and parameters.

These rules limit our ability to experience.

We know no freedom.

The skull.

The skull is mortality.

The skull is death.

Death is real.

Death is experiential.

Death is beyond words.

We can never know death. 

Preamble

My successful entry to this years 2D section of the Sunshine Coast Art Prize. It is titled, Preamble.

Missing

I haven't written anything of a creative persuasion in quite a while. The urge to write just hasn't been present. In the past I have felt words and ideas swell and gestate in me. My emotional and intellectual, alchemy would brew, fester and then eventually spill out. A gently squeezed, emotional Mt Vesuvius would run through my diaries and in time words would appear on this blog. It is now a most infrequence occurence and is a form of creativity that I wish to reclaim.

The question that I've been working on is why exactly have I stopped writing? The most obvious explanation would be that I've been taking anti depressants again for almost a year now. My resulting emotional stability has removed a great deal of the fuel on which I used to run my writing. In time I look forward to replacing it with a new source of fodder. Something rich, powerful and sustainable.

Comfort

Comfort with judgement.
Knowing enough to form opinions of myself and other people.
Knowing that judgment and forgiveness accompany one another and have never been mutually exclusive.

I've said it before but I really mean it this time...almost complete

Some odd little works on paper