रिसर्च इ.इ प आर टी ह ऐ ऐ न ओ ग ऐ न ऐ स इ S

The demonic erotic relation beocmes a fierce destructive passion that works against loyalty or frustrates the one who possesses it. It is generally symbolized by a harlot, witch, siren, or other tantalyzing female, a physical object of desire which is sought as a possession and therefore can never be possessed. The demonic parody of marriage, or the union of two souls in one flesh, may take the form of hermaphroditism, incest (the most common form), or homosexuality. The social relaiton is that of the mob, which is essentially human society looking for a pharmakos, and the mob is often identified with some sinister animal image such as the hydra, Virgils Fama, or its development in Spenser's Blatant Beast.

The other worlds can be briefly summarized. The animal world is portrayed in terms of monsters of beasts of prey. The wolf, the traditional enemy of the sheep, the tiger the vulture, the cold and earth-bound serpent, and the dragon are all common. In the Bibl, the rulers of each are identified with monstrous beasts " Nebuchadnezzar turns into a beast in Daniel, and Pharoah is called a river-dragon by Ezekiel. The dragon is especially appropriate because it is not only monstrous and sinister but fabulous, and so represents the paradoxical nature of evil as a moral fact and an eternal engation. In the Apocalypse the dragon is called "the beast that was, and is not yet, and is"

The vegetable world is a sinister forest... Or is may be a sinister enchanted garden like that of Circe and its Renaissance descendents in Tasso adn Spenser.In the Bible, the waste land appears in it soncrete universal form in the free of death, the tree of forbidden knowledge in Genesis, the barren fig-tree of the Gospels, adn teh cross. The stake, with the hooded heretic, the black man or the witch atached to it, si the burning tree and body of the infernal world. Scaffolds, gallows, stocks pillories, whips, and birch rods are or could be modulations. The contrast of teh tree of life adn teh tree of death is beautifully expressed in Yeats' poem, The Two Trees

warpaint

Temenos (Burning Man Installation 2008) departed

withdrawal of the need to isolate the chambers of the ice dome broke // dust storms flew in and authority punched my wrists, the palms of me stricken and around me started to fall to shreds. boys pretend to be men. cannot clutch my fingers cannot feel my pain. keep on building the tower of babel do not waste time with the questions or emotions that burn and coil. agressive. yang. the border erupts. i departed. exodus. burnt the bridge

म य टी ह ओ प ओ ऐ स इ स

Confession :

I want to create a mythic dimension through my work as a contemporary artist. I wantt to create and inhabit a world. The mythopoiec imagination stands ahead of me, in a time and a climate that is not entirely logical. I wish to create temples of all white, lined with skulls nad bones and vines and white snakes with red-tipped faces. I wish to create spaces that enact aspects of a divine mythology that my work creates and embeds.

The first performance / installation will be called

C O S M O G O N Y I : ( T H E E M B R Y O N I C C H A N T S )

The skins of the world are created. The central womb, as supported and surrounded by the SnarePods. Borrow from Dzogchen. What it does not recognize as oneself solidifies, congeals, makes form. Animal : Outside Inside : Sanctity. The Temple + The Forest. Buddhism. Aspects of Creation + GOD. Alter Deus / AN introduction to this sub-world // Humans as SUB-CREATORS. Between Myth + The world.

Lion Machines. Sirens. Mythic Beasts. A world that mimicks the interior world of ours. Undiscovered terrain. I am to build it.

Work slowly. PHARMAKOS will follow. It all encircles.

i will follow you to rwanda

To Be Water

Silence strokes across a sea of gentle lillies. Something here is bent.

He appeared and I was strong and so resilient before. I felt myself artillery, it was me, I was that being of permanence and self-sufficience... The melancholic stew... it settles in me. For my prince is gone, has left, after we charged through deep layers to find a new place, I am ... without him... What is without ?

For years I was building myself to be a mountain. I was full of brim and braun, PROTECTED. I yearned for this, I felt it was my duty and my way, that my path WAS to walk alone and be swift and bold and hold my own. Then when the olive-skinned tenderly stroked my side, I felt myself screaming to myself "He may Shatter all we have built !"

All the cigarettes I shuved back in. The violence. The violence of containment. Of holding things. Of being heavy. I began to learn that my being was in the service of a ligthness. Yes, yes, we whisper, a lightness. He has finally caught hold. I threw the cigarettes, the chains, Mara on his white elephant, the trickster and the twisty grasping pull of confusion, all the hungry ghosts, threw them aside into a rushing river where icicles chimed atop of the water and the moon whistled to me her mysteries... I burned it and now I am watching all these ghosts rise up. Ghosts of fear.

Ghosts that do not let me celebrate. Ghosts that strangle peace and contemplation.



My mentor let me touch her sword today, her first sword. Inside her metaphysical techno-garden. I understood that in each conversation she and I were flying side by side. Now I was to learn the sword. Now I am to advance in my training.


I have dropped the falseness. Now I must drop the worry and the care. The heaviness. It does not belong. It will not penetrate. All is full of love. I am being taken care of. I trust in all that has occured because I have willed it and worked for it and the Universe provides in it's abundance. We take the challenge, and the hardness, we engage with it.

I should not allow myself to wallow in missing him, but celebrate our love from this great distance !! And the future that ravages ahead throughout my warm stomachs... it is spawning already it's changes and is singing it's gentle songs. I can see it vaguely on the horizon... I was at first frightened but Mentor reminded me I am a Warrior and I must always keep facing forward, my eyes straight ahead of me.

We are patient, as cranes upon the waters of change. We must grow comfort walking across the tightrope. The sliver of wood that is our security, our permanence. We are growing, shifting...

I praise the sanctity that Joshua and I have created. I am entirely blessed by his being and pray to continue to honour him and walk beside him. My soul is fed and held by him in a way it has never been touched.

I feel I have been melancholic because the beauty of these moments of my life are too overwhelmingly beautiful to behold.
Shut the fuck up and behold them.
Do not run from them.

This is your birthright

howl

I percieve that one of the artstars has chosen to be a child and perform the spoilt brat before the world newspaper articles and press release poetry I am envious, and prior to that envy I was filled with inspiration, much as one who whimpers may be set free by seeing something smaller than it sailing by because of nothing more than sheer inspiration

Cannot tell if I hate or admire that. I have posters on my wall of artists whose work I do not like but whom i admire for scope. is that something to respect ? and what is the understanding of art anyways ? it is the placement of things and the looking at them - minimalist is not my bag i like to layer upon layer maybe he admires me for my current humility

I saw him and I was PUNK'd - double mohawk streaked through and i loved to live in squallor with the atrocity of decadence pain and money and suffering to prove some provocative image to myself. now my heroes have gone elsewhere, shifted... now i want to be a maker, a bigger brother... do i still want to be this punk and hang around and party with that illusion ?

it is true we must shift our illusion but we also have to enter the real. joshua whispered to me last night that we could not entirely live in fantasy. heart pounded that i loved that i had to be told that. and its true i choose him because i was tired of little lost boys who know where their parents house is but pretend and say they are older and bang and cause a fuss with their sex and their cake just to be fed from whimperings cause havok break buildings and STOP their evolution because they will be more famous if they do

i choose him because he sees it bigger, his eyes stretch and he appreciates and comprehends but has the wisdom of falling back from that advance. because he looks at things long time before calling them something and because he knows everything but speaks it so quietly that the birds can hear it rather than pounding it like a weapon and scaring them away to say it to himself. because we build a hive stone by stone and because there is peace in a river that is soft and surrounded only by its' concept and knows how to cut wood and thrives on self- sustaining. because he takes the time where others seek to break the time or make the time or fake the time i choose him because he wants to make children not be children, but in that and only in that can you truly be a child is by making

II.

the first duty in life is to assume a pose, and the second duty no one has yet to figure out. not my words i think they came from oscar wilde. i am still posing as the child right now a purgatory rests a creative licence.

i knew that at the point where the gaze stopped upon me i could have been i could have formed and grabbed hold of that gaze, and licked it's choda with slippery lips... i could stop and race with what i had and punch and shoot with machine gun make weapons out of bones and whatever lies around but fuck that noise. me & the world are not going to fuck right away. its going to take some time. new york was our first date. the entia @ the wag was the second. i like to take a few months between, consider, think about, recover... bear patiently. i want to be with the world like i am with josh. i want to love the world like i love him, and not like other confused relationships

III.

so right now because the path is inevitable that the gaze stops somewhere it is a purgatory between two things and i cannot settle in either. again this in between. here is where i am building. i am still somewhat incomprehensible but not so coded that i act like a child. coded on a more intricate level. i am a symbology that no one has yet found the key for but i am also a counsellor that counsels the world through my work whether it has even asked for it. what is the world ? do people even read these scriptures that i write ? such is the mystery. the hidden moment and experience. the strangeness of the gaze is that it is aunonymous. you cannot see it cannot strike it it watches you like a predator. and so yes

i am prey.

this is important research for a performance coming up in 2009 at the platform gallery.

i am thinking alot about skin, and about fantasy and about signs.

what it is to have my beauty respected