verses (pt. i)

compassion for those trapped in the service of death

dismantle from the bottom up

only you can imprison your own heart

last moments of the dying ego

cynicism is the easy way out

those with the most power are the most fearful

i will never be a corporate brand

love embracing all existence

one moment of clarity

all is possible with nothing left to lose

discarding that which no longer works

true strength lies not in oppression

do not be afraid

it's ok,

it's so easy to say,

don't be afraid.

yet, we're all afraid

aren't we?

what is it my love?

what is your greatest fear?

please, relax if you can.

don't fight it,

the tide, the pull

feel it, whatever it might be.

it is your true self calling:

fear, longing, regret, love.

dark night (bodhisattva)

the darkness, it holds no fear to me

knowing it so well through

all these years and lives untold.

embracing, pressed so close

as to take into myself

no self, it matters not.

stumbling now, without balance

down, spiralling downward

empty and free of hope.

past countless imagined apparitions,

demons and afflictions, no power they

for to them, the same as to i.

and to you i say, be not alone

rather take me, take me there with you

reach and find me there, deep into the black.

Christmas Karmic Eve

My recent practice has involved applying the methodology of the Tibetan Book of the Dead, in particular, that of passing through the Bardos of the wrathful deities. The logic being that if you apply this practice in life, you will make progress here, and be familar with it after dying.

Poetically enough the wrathful deities, like the three wise men, decided to visit me on Christmas Eve. A peaceful evening walking with throngs of Christmas revelers later gave way to a deep sense of anxiety and nightmares.

Toward the deep existential dread that came up, I was able to hold no grudge and remained fairly neutral, understanding it as karmic residue that I could accept as coming from within myself. This was a marked departure from the teaching I received early on that these feelings are evil, and need to be exorcised.

As the experience unfolded, I began to find compassion toward that young child I once was, and also toward those well-meaning, but ultimately ignorant teachers and preachers of my youth. I also found gratitude that my own children are progressing at a much younger age toward wisdom and realization than I was able to.

Through a Christmas night filled with unsettling dreams I ventured, not attaching myself to them, nor pushing them away, but trying just to be present and allow the energy to complete itself.

And so this is my current resolution, to experience the karmic residue of a million existences, and watch as it burns itself out, at its own pace. I couldn't escape the irony that this realization came on the symbolic night of another very celebrated painful birth into this world.

This seems to me like an honest path to liberation.

among the ruins

the old ways no longer work.

though they still stand, they are incapable of carrying meaning.

those established forms will either evolve, or crumble.

there are new forms emerging, sprouting up from among the ruins.

they will engage new directions, even as the old gives way.

we are in this transitional space already, even though it is not readily apparent.

the old symbols continue to serve a function, that of providing a framework,

even as they are subsumed into the new.

the earth goddess, ancient rome, mithras, each had their time and place.

when they were no longer beneficial, new forms came into being,

born out of and adapting what was useful from the former.

and so it is with the time and place in which we find ourselves, here at the cusp of something new.

Vipassana Pop

Vipassana Pop

These are new works on paper I've just finished. The project began as a "tabula rasa", in which I would complete a collage, then paint over it, obliterating the image, and lastly add a final layer to coax something out of the background.

Deni Bleu, Discourse on Emptiness, 1,2,3,4 (Joey)

They were conceived as band posters for a bar in a decrepit alley behind an ancient cathedral.

Been a Son

I place them on the street, some in alleyways, some outside of a club, or by an old railroad trestle, and photographed them in each of these settings.

Pieta Cola, Vipassana Pop, Rockfu

The energetic history of each of these locations interacts vividly with the works. This is a fundamental idea that comes out of my curatorial projects, that of art existing in real world contexts.

notes on (no) self

you are an unruly child,
wielding violence and the cruel, thinking yourself just.

yes, you are right, against
all that is wrong, so maintain your illusion.

and reinforce yourself through concepts,
your faith, your holy book, your flag, your right, my wrong.

and what is it really,
this need to push so hard to justify your existence.

against the fear of emptiness,
of the infinite space that permeates the body.

of connectedness, of bridges
crossing the great spaces of the immaterial.

of the pulse, the flow,
the vibration of your own unsustainable nature.

cease the struggle, resist not,
only then does your illusion give way to the real.