I have lived many lives and died many deaths to resist destiny. Only since my first breath have I been an artist – as soon as I discovered that I have hands, every medium I could get my hands on has held my interest.
When asked what I do for a living I replied, ” I’ve been an artist all my life.” They said, “You mean you’ve never had a job”… I replied, ” I mean I’ve never had a day off.” I will retire when I’m dead – even then maybe not.
I’ve had to fire myself, but I always end up having to re-hire myself – usually with a raise. Life has always been a work in progress, and it has never been my job to tell you what you want to hear.
Life is art. I don’t just do art – art does me. I’ve had numerous close encounters with mortality – mine and others.
Much of my work remains unfinished. My life may never really be finished. A discourse that is as crucial to the process as narrative that is fraught with meaning yet remains in accord with open-ended inquiry that has no conclusive statement. I will not resort to jargon and I suspend philosophies.
People talk about ‘edgy’ art. I have been over the edge, around the corner, to the other side and back and lived to tell about it. I cannot ‘do’ art – I am art. It is one thing to study or collect art, and another thing to live the artist’s life.
Art is art. Everything else is everything else.
I am a time traveler, and if you’re not you’d better get with it! As I live and breathe the processes of this thing I call myself as an artist and person, I realize that the world will not appreciate the good you do a million times – but will criticize the one wrong thing you do a million times.
One of the only permanent things in life is art. In an age where everyone is or can be an artist, the most important thing is to love life itself as an art. Everyone has an expression, and I offer my life’s work as mine.