Enough with the fighting, please.
It’s a toxic disease;
the steed of tormentors looking to ease or displease,
to sow seeds that grow weeds.
With stolen freedoms blindly appeased,
cannot yet see
they are down on their knees.
Grey tones echo and grow.
Sometimes it seemed there wasn’t that much to know.
But the day glo that screams hello,
and the conscience debate, to and fro,
to and fro,
Fingertips to the sky, hinge from the waist, touch your toes.
Gaze off the tip of your nose.
Breathe through the adversity, hurdle the foes,
try to downplay the blows
and who knows?
Maybe we’ll float away from those woes.
I wrote this while thinking of a friend back home who is having a shit time ❤
Making art for the sake of it might mean different things to some than others. To me, it means working on all the projects I never had the time/energy/courage for.
It means ignoring the self-doubt that says “this is crap, no one will like what you’re doing”. It isn’t about what other people like.
It means accepting that the real art is in the creative process, and the final outcome, the body of work, is only the last representation of that artistic expression.
It means submission to our own creative powers, whatever they are, for the sake of it.
A collection of photos from Tasmania, Spring/Summer 2014.
What you see is what you get.