Hello lovers,
it's been awhile, and oh how i've missed you. let me explain i wasn't ignoring you but rather the world and you are part of that phenomena. ah death, that concubine whore, that star fucker, that satyr, that door we are all going to walk through one day. yes, think about it. one day you are going to die. i am going to die. everyone we love and hate dearly are going to die. why be born then? why all this fuss? and what lays beyond the temple of death? no one really knows, but i'll tell you one thing. i believe in ghosts.
last night i had a visitor, it woke me up at around 1:30 am. i thought i heard one of my kids call out, and having crashed out on the couch watching "american dad" episodes, i jumped up and groggily stumbled down the hall to their bedrooms. first the girls, soundly asleep and snoring gently, and then my son, who was cocooned up in his favourite blanket also snoring soundly. then i heard strange sounds. like barefoot footsteps on the floor in the hall, so i jumped out, and then heard rustling sounds and other strange noises around my apartment. i opened the door to the storage room and look around, nothing, then the hall closets and finally went into the kitchen and finally the living room. nothing.
"Fuck it," i thought to myself and went back to the couch and decided to play some guitar, so i plugged in a guitar and picked up my handy zoom recorder and over the space of an hour, laid down some sweet riffs. basically the skeletons to 4 new songs. riffy and melodic, fast and heavy. simple and understated. my favourite way. haha. but as i played and got lost in the groove, every now and then i'd hear a voice, a soft one, and footsteps and rustling sounds, like someone flicking the pages of a book, but i figured i had a visitor, and the kids were safe, so to hell with it. i'll shut up and play my guitar.
finally i crashed around 3 a.m. this morning and woke up sharply at 6 a.m. and felt fine. refreshed. so i started the ritual of getting my kids' lunch together. i will say i did a quick sweep of the house again with a flashlight to make sure everything was good. it was, and i made my coffee and thought about this blog, this life, and you.
and the passing of phillip seymour hoffman.
such a shame. he was a great actor, truly, because he could inhabit the spirit and soul of a character so thoroughly that he moved from film to film, role to role with what appeared to be natural born ease. leading men, a dime a dozen and hollow headed to boot, can only be the good guy. rarely do we get a complex good guy with an ugly core. it just doesn't happen. good guys have too much to lose, their looks, their wealth and their ladies, or men in the rare instance. haha.
ultimately, residing in the shadows takes its toll, this much i do know. i took a year break from digital art, my bread and butter, and dived whole heartedly into graffiti art, drawing, painting photography and just living in the sunshine again instead of living in the shadows as i have for the past 6 or more years. more importantly, i took a break from making art and writing about the residential schools, racism and trauma it has caused and created in my family and life. i had spent the better part of 5 years making films, art and writing about it all and it was killing me inside.
but i was hollow, and there was pressure to create new shows, new art, new poems, new stories and films to go along with it, and after awhile it all became counter productive and i knew if i didn't stop i was going to die. so i stopped, and began living again, not in a wind-bag, bullshit kind of way, but i started doing graffiti and street art and drawing in sketchbooks and doing workshops with youth and painting outside in the sun, in the rain, in the cold and the warmth. it was social, i met other artists and writers, it was and remains a positive force in my life. art crimes. hahah.
a day painting with my friends is like a day fishing, we draw, paint and bullshit about art, life, women, music and everything. suddenly it wasn't just me rotting away in my mind in a lonely apartment, missing my kids and wondering what the hell i was doing with my life. don't get me wrong, i'm no saint, but i do know what's good in my life and i work hard to protect it each day.
until next time lovers,
cb.
1st new digital/photo work
in a year.
happy new year lovers.
