Summers Sun soaks into my soul, like the sand beneath well travelled feet. August has never passed so quickly, yet it leaves behind a warmth in every memory touched. Day dreams laced with sincerity and colours so sublime, fragments of everything that has ever been and past. I see blue and gold, shapes that [...]]]> Summers Sun soaks into my soul, like the sand beneath well travelled feet. August has never passed so quickly, yet it leaves behind a warmth in every memory touched. Day dreams laced with sincerity and colours so sublime, fragments of everything that has ever been and past. I see blue and gold, shapes that transform the moment consciousness reaches them. A certain feeling of connectedness with spirit, with hope.

Moments fade to be replaced by forms dancing freely around this surrealist place. I wonder what will become of such things as day passes graciously into night. But those concepts of time soon slide away, merging and becoming the rhythmic sound of the shore. Somewhere between the ebbing and flowing of the sea, a secret exists. A secret revealed in the wind, the rain and every ray of sun. They say that understanding can be found in even the smallest grain of sand, the universe manifest as pure potentiality. Blues turn to white, and I realise I’m neither asleep nor awake, instead I drift beyond conscious thought and live amongst dreams.

(29th August 2009)

Note: Living Amongst Dreams is a textual preview of my forthcoming visual art series ‘The Colours of Summer’ (working title), due to be exhibited in October 2009.

In a town where the words just don’t feel the same, I think of dying. White turns to black and back again, in a room where the doors have no purpose or refrain.

Falling down, I feel like I’m flying but I know that the ground will be the last sound that I [...]]]> In a town where the words just don’t feel the same, I think of dying. White turns to black and back again, in a room where the doors have no purpose or refrain.

Falling down, I feel like I’m flying but I know that the ground will be the last sound that I hear. My mind takes me back to a place I used to play, when you and I were just good friends, and we knew nothing of despair.

One day we ran through fields, lost in the moment of the chase, without comprehension of a beginning or an end. Strawberry sundae sunsets collide in a space somewhere inbetween this life and the next. We stop to look up, seeing nothing but the place we have come to call our home.

Stationary clouds shroud a brightly burning sun, weightless in a sky that knows more than we could ever dream. Every blade of yellow-tinted grass sways gently, on the hope of better days to come. But rain will bide its time, waiting for the day the sun turns black.

Alone again, I’m still falling. Please stop me from falling further than before. In this room, in this town where every footprint is covered over by the sand.

(27th August 2009)

Note: This essay accompanies my ‘Identity Art Series’.

We reduce, delete, generalise, filter and simplify the outside world to such a degree that our reality is nothing more than a guesswork lattice, mapping fragments of the vista of experience. Information is everywhere, literally. We move through the world unaware of most of the [...]]]> Note: This essay accompanies my ‘Identity Art Series’.

We reduce, delete, generalise, filter and simplify the outside world to such a degree that our reality is nothing more than a guesswork lattice, mapping fragments of the vista of experience. Information is everywhere, literally. We move through the world unaware of most of the information, perceiving and judging the steady stream that does make its way into our minds. Of course our consciousness couldn’t cope with much more than we currently accept, not without sacrificing some element here or there. We are indeed deletion creatures, and that brings us to the post-it note.

It has been said that the understanding can be found in the smallest grain of sand, we needn’t look out to the oceans for the understanding we have inside of us already. I write my sentence. The post-it note is a tangible indicator of our dealing with reality, we think of events in detail, filter down to key components and summarise this in writing to ourselves at a later point in time. Whenever we again look at the post-it note, we must go through that same process in reverse make meaning out of the fragmented clues we left ourselves.

What if we used the post-it note to explore our own identity, if we shattered the mirrors that look back in despair, and instead trusted in 76mm2 coloured sheets of partially adhered paper? What if that 76mm2 space became the equivalent of the entire world, what if we got lost beyond comprehension only to find our salvation in our own marks?

We once discovered the truest meaning of humanity, but forgot what it was. For years we searched and searched, but found only contempt. What if we remembered who we were, who we are and who we are going to be? What if we are already all of those things?

(2006)

Note: This essay accompanies my Post-it Note Artwork, which forms a part of my ‘Identity Art’ Series.

Maybe Post-it notes are the office equivalent of the artists canvas, maybe the 76mm square area is like a window to the soul, maybe it’s just paper and adhesive without context and without hope. Isn’t it [...]]]> Note: This essay accompanies my Post-it Note Artwork, which forms a part of my ‘Identity Art’ Series.

Maybe Post-it notes are the office equivalent of the artists canvas, maybe the 76mm square area is like a window to the soul, maybe it’s just paper and adhesive without context and without hope. Isn’t it strange how a piece of paper can achieve so much significance with the marks of the artists hand. likewise the dreams we leave playing on ours pillows each morning, often go unnoticed if not mocked as our conditioned adult filters take excruciating care in not allowing us to act childish, an irony, when we consider the truest demonstration of life is only found in the most childish of things.

The innocence of a flippant doodle, an unconscious externalisation of the telephone call about nothing in particular. we bore ourselves to death, quite literally, by trusting 700 page reports rather than our intuitive mind, honed and developed over thousands of years so that we can disregard it’s communication as irrelevant. It is our filters which are irrelevant when they go beyond a useful limiting of external stimulus, we overuse them to actually believe that reality is what we see, hear and feel. This is the grandest of misunderstandings, that we, such an advanced civilisation trust in no-one but our own filtering of media filtered junk. No, this cannot be happening!

I take my post-it note and draw until understanding arises, I expect the unexpected, and believe in and trust it’s ‘childish’ games. To you it may be a square of coloured paper, to me it’s the door to another world.

Like the Steppenwolf of Hesse, who found himself walking endless corridors in search of the one thing he did not understand, I flick through post-its searching for a link I cannot comprehend. They flicker by like yesterdays sunset played on fast forward, looping recursively, without beginning and without end. I used to wonder whether the images in my mind were real, whether a cube after a cube could relate to my living room floor, or walls, or doors. I kept on drawing those lines, hoping for salvation from a compartmental life, the pages keep on, image after image, when suddenly, the letters ‘you wish you were you’ flashed like lightening across the darkest of skies. Each letter embedding itself firmly within the conical receptors of my eyes, etched for a lifetime, a permanent reminder that I had been searching for meaning, when it was the process of searching that was the meaning all along.

John Lennon once said that ‘life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans’, maybe this procession of images is the externalisation of life, happening, in front of our very eyes, maybe you’ll still search for meaning, making your plans, whilst another fragment of my life passes you by, maybe you’ll stop and wonder what it was like to be a child.

(2006)

It’s thirteen thirty four in the afternoon, and you’ve left me all alone, in a building where the walls hide secrets that lie inside.

There’s a difference in the air, or in your hair, but I guess it doesn’t matter, when you’re floating on your cloud, looking down, at everything you’ve ever loved [...]]]> It’s thirteen thirty four in the afternoon, and you’ve left me all alone, in a building where the walls hide secrets that lie inside.

There’s a difference in the air, or in your hair, but I guess it doesn’t matter, when you’re floating on your cloud, looking down, at everything you’ve ever loved and lost.

It’s true that you should be my queen, but instead you choose not to dream, don’t you know that time will only drain you grey.

If I offered you my hand, and took a walk along the sand, do you think that if I held you, we could go back to being friends.

All the things that went unsaid, and the thoughts inside your head, the first time, I looked deep into your eyes.

And maybe this is fate and something we can’t change, but I’ll tear down time and space, for just as long as it takes to see you face, and tell you that I love you as you are.

(January 2009)

Strangers passing in the sun, A hint of something that’s begun, But love never lasts that long, Maybe it’s time for another song.

Tonight, she’s on- my mind. Tonight, she’s on- my mind. To-night, To-night, To-night-

Played another winning hand, But this old game never goes as planned, She’s wearing my favourite dress, I [...]]]> Strangers passing in the sun,
A hint of something that’s begun,
But love never lasts that long,
Maybe it’s time for another song.

Tonight, she’s on- my mind.
Tonight, she’s on- my mind.
To-night,
To-night,
To-night-

Played another winning hand,
But this old game never goes as planned,
She’s wearing my favourite dress,
I can’t help but be impressed.

Tonight, she’s on- my mind.
Tonight, she’s on- my mind.
To-night,
To-night,
To-night-

And what if we could dance so free,
Heart to heart, just you and me.
In my mind my thoughts are real,
But you may never know how I feel.

Tonight, you’re on- my mind.
Tonight, you’re on- my mind.
To-night,
To-night,
To-night-

(August 2008)

Hello, hello, hello-

Fifteen feet, is all it takes, For my heart to miss a beat-

Everyday, you look my way, A secret, that we must keep-

It’s cold inside, this absent block, A key that fits your perfect lock.

And I wonder if our dreams collide- If we live, a life [...]]]> Hello, hello, hello-

Fifteen feet, is all it takes,
For my heart to miss a beat-

Everyday, you look my way,
A secret, that we must keep-

It’s cold inside, this absent block,
A key that fits your perfect lock.

And I wonder if our dreams collide-
If we live, a life trapped, inside-
This heart-shaped box, you made for me-
Out of hello, goodbye and nice to see-

You will, be mine, in time-
You will, be mine, in time-
In time… In time… In time-

And when, our clocks, will stop-
We’ll be, forever, locked-
We’ll be, forever, locked-

But for now, I’ll just say goodbye-
And you’ll smile, the sweetest smile..

Goodbye

(August 2008)

Corridors that lead nowhere, Swimming an endless sea, Broken hearts served with apple tarts, It’s all too much for me.

You and I, Will someday fly, Further than they’ve been. Before we die, You and I, Will see more than they’ve seen.

Dreams we make that only break, Wake me from this sleep. [...]]]> Corridors that lead nowhere,
Swimming an endless sea,
Broken hearts served with apple tarts,
It’s all too much for me.

You and I,
Will someday fly,
Further than they’ve been.
Before we die,
You and I,
Will see more than they’ve seen.

Dreams we make that only break,
Wake me from this sleep.
Love so true I give my heart to you,
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.

You and I,
Will someday fly,
Further than we’ve been.
Before we die,
You and I,
Will see more than we’ve seen.

And these should be the best days of our lives.
These should be the best days of our lives.
These should be the best days of our lives.
These should be the best days of our lives.
If we could only start living outside of our minds.

(August 2008)

Washed away eyes, and vacant minds pace a distant shore, waiting for fortunes to change. Time seems to have a way of taking our lives away from us, before we’ve had chance to live. But not today. Although my clock reads 15:18, I know that I’m already late. Countless opportunities have been and gone, [...]]]> Washed away eyes, and vacant minds pace a distant shore, waiting for fortunes to change. Time seems to have a way of taking our lives away from us, before we’ve had chance to live. But not today. Although my clock reads 15:18, I know that I’m already late. Countless opportunities have been and gone, far more than I care to remember or recount. They say that a brush with death heightens the senses; maybe I should take more risks, live a little while I still can.

It’s in my dreams that I come face to face with the coldness and finality of death, like a room long forgotten, silence and time roam free. I don’t have all the answers, and just like everyone else I’m struggling to keep afloat and make some sense of this incomprehensible world. I do know that your unquestioning eyes and sincere smile make everything ok in that moment, like medicine for the soul.

Did I ever tell you that I’m in love with you? I wish I could, and we could run away far and free, to somewhere we played when we were young. Words serve no purpose, as swings motion back and forth fleetingly. Speaking seems so unnecessary, so we just sit and live for the moment, reading each others eyes like Shakespeare’s sonnets. Why can life not be like this forever-more? To live in the gap where time and place collide. I guess I just need to share the feeling of empathy. To let go to such a point where we cease to exist as individuals and become just pure experience. Did I tell you I love you?

(April 2008)

Your perfect eyes, like kisses in the sky. Bring me hope, of you and I. This may be wrong, but who’s to judge. You mean more to me, than another girl should.

I need you tonight, to merge our souls, and dream all night.

Your perfect skin, like golden shores divine, A [...]]]> Your perfect eyes, like kisses in the sky.
Bring me hope, of you and I.
This may be wrong, but who’s to judge.
You mean more to me, than another girl should.

I need you tonight,
to merge our souls, and dream all night.

Your perfect skin, like golden shores divine,
A connection made, your hands in mine.
This unrequieted love, hijacks my heart.
You’ve shared my dreams right from the start.

I need you tonight,
to merge our souls, and dream all night.

Now I know, we could never be.
More than I have been to you.
You’ll never just how I feel,
I’ll die with secret wounds unhealed.

Because, true love waits,
and I’m not over you.
True love waits,
and I’m not over -you.

(April 2008)