HOME | DD

Description
FULL TITLE: deteriation of the disordered mind - 11.27.06 |

Someone convinced me to start submitting again.

And something strange convinced me to divefirst into insane experimentation more massive than ever before. So this is the rickety result.

I wanted to express the psychological interior - the life and death of a deteriorating disordered mind, unleashed from it's hiding. The serene exterior is juxtaposed.

It's both a self-portrait and an acupunctural slice of invariable nothings.

This waxen junkyard of multi-textured smithereens comprises of little destroyed objects significant to my childhood. Each is sewn on to the canvas (old chubby chicken plushie with spillages of cotton stuffing, skeleton Halloween bags, jean pockets I had in fifth grade, the rusty hairbrush I used for five years, egg cartons and other random things. The light bulb is that round bubble of enlightenment that made all the difference. The hair is my hair. I remain unbald. A coat of encaustic wax and boiled crayons is solidified on top. These things plop out above the blackness underneath. A hole was exacto-knived burned, and ripped. It’s the birth, the enlightenment, the childhood flesh, and death.

However, above it all, is a gray statuette bursting poetry over embroidered swirls of peace.

“Wedged
in this cantankerous
JunkYard of ageless memories

I am decaying….

Blizzards of seconds
Stitched into bliss.

Marry the guest.
Poop the pet.

Eyes Plied Open.

No Regrets.”

Description
FULL TITLE: deteriation of the disordered mind - 11.27.06 |

Someone convinced me to start submitting again.

And something strange convinced me to divefirst into insane experimentation more massive than ever before. So this is the rickety result.

I wanted to express the psychological interior - the life and death of a deteriorating disordered mind, unleashed from it's hiding. The serene exterior is juxtaposed.

It's both a self-portrait and an acupunctural slice of invariable nothings.

This waxen junkyard of multi-textured smithereens comprises of little destroyed objects significant to my childhood. Each is sewn on to the canvas (old chubby chicken plushie with spillages of cotton stuffing, skeleton Halloween bags, jean pockets I had in fifth grade, the rusty hairbrush I used for five years, egg cartons and other random things. The light bulb is that round bubble of enlightenment that made all the difference. The hair is my hair. I remain unbald. A coat of encaustic wax and boiled crayons is solidified on top. These things plop out above the blackness underneath. A hole was exacto-knived burned, and ripped. It’s the birth, the enlightenment, the childhood flesh, and death.

However, above it all, is a gray statuette bursting poetry over embroidered swirls of peace.

“Wedged
in this cantankerous
JunkYard of ageless memories

I am decaying….

Blizzards of seconds
Stitched into bliss.

Marry the guest.
Poop the pet.

Eyes Plied Open.

No Regrets.”