One of those kettles from Kmart that’s clear and lights up red when it starts.
Oil, Ready to hang
76.2cm (W) x 76.2cm (H) x 3.8cm (D)
in 2020 I began a series of work to be exhibited in Collective Haunt in 2021. This series was called “My Bedroom”. A series of self portraits with various lights and colours abstracting my face and body. Included is an excerpt from the show.
“They’re about the space between where we sleep and where dreams begin. A manifestation of the red hot fever dream that is just existing. There is no lingering narrative for the viewer to break down or absorb in these works just a sweltering canopy of movement and colour which is where we’re dropped off to wonder. There is so much vigour and veracity in shallow ponds, if you went outside you’d be surprised to find there’s just as much life and joy below your nose than the whole world can provide. In a room no bigger than a few metres squared, wonderful things can reside, if we take them to be just as mystified. These paintings are when your eyes meet your own in the reflection in a passing bus as you stand by the lights. Driving past the home you grew up in but barely having a second to remember anything. In sunlight, it’s only the surface of the river that shimmers, I want to see that, albeit my room is a bit dimmer. “
This painting’s name is a poem I wrote and exhibited beside the piece.
“One of those kettles from Kmart that’s clear and lights up red when it starts.
There’s still soap in the mug from when he supposedly cleaned it so now my tea has bubbles in it. Kinda unhygienic but still exciting. It’s thirty degrees at night and there’s a mattress on the floor to my right but it’s taken so tonight the floor is where I’ll reside. I’ll stay outside and drink my tea, smoking and waiting until falling asleep could be described as easy. The sun is rising, all the shooting stars have shot their shots to the crescendo of starting cars stretching for morning traffic. Staring at the last little glimmer of mars like Pablo Escobar moments before ‘it’ he carked. I can’t escape this feeling I’m finding clues that will help me give in but it’s fruitless I feel I’m spinning but don’t stop staring. Birds sing Frank Sinatra so sweetly as if they
hadn’t heard anything I regrettably said last evening. The street lights sense their replaceability and flicker off pathetically. The sky is nearly blue and guess who and it’s me smoking staring at the moon. It’s not even my cigarette it’s a menthol and that’s gross tell the truth. I think I’m starting to feel the dizz, the last little spin before I completely fizz, fall out and fall down surrounded by kindy glitz. Let this be it, really really please let this be it let me sleep.”
Oil, Ready to hang
76.2cm (W) x 76.2cm (H) x 3.8cm (D)
in 2020 I began a series of work to be exhibited in Collective Haunt in 2021. This series was called “My Bedroom”. A series of self portraits with various lights and colours abstracting my face and body. Included is an excerpt from the show.
“They’re about the space between where we sleep and where dreams begin. A manifestation of the red hot fever dream that is just existing. There is no lingering narrative for the viewer to break down or absorb in these works just a sweltering canopy of movement and colour which is where we’re dropped off to wonder. There is so much vigour and veracity in shallow ponds, if you went outside you’d be surprised to find there’s just as much life and joy below your nose than the whole world can provide. In a room no bigger than a few metres squared, wonderful things can reside, if we take them to be just as mystified. These paintings are when your eyes meet your own in the reflection in a passing bus as you stand by the lights. Driving past the home you grew up in but barely having a second to remember anything. In sunlight, it’s only the surface of the river that shimmers, I want to see that, albeit my room is a bit dimmer. “
This painting’s name is a poem I wrote and exhibited beside the piece.
“One of those kettles from Kmart that’s clear and lights up red when it starts.
There’s still soap in the mug from when he supposedly cleaned it so now my tea has bubbles in it. Kinda unhygienic but still exciting. It’s thirty degrees at night and there’s a mattress on the floor to my right but it’s taken so tonight the floor is where I’ll reside. I’ll stay outside and drink my tea, smoking and waiting until falling asleep could be described as easy. The sun is rising, all the shooting stars have shot their shots to the crescendo of starting cars stretching for morning traffic. Staring at the last little glimmer of mars like Pablo Escobar moments before ‘it’ he carked. I can’t escape this feeling I’m finding clues that will help me give in but it’s fruitless I feel I’m spinning but don’t stop staring. Birds sing Frank Sinatra so sweetly as if they
hadn’t heard anything I regrettably said last evening. The street lights sense their replaceability and flicker off pathetically. The sky is nearly blue and guess who and it’s me smoking staring at the moon. It’s not even my cigarette it’s a menthol and that’s gross tell the truth. I think I’m starting to feel the dizz, the last little spin before I completely fizz, fall out and fall down surrounded by kindy glitz. Let this be it, really really please let this be it let me sleep.”
Oil, Ready to hang
76.2cm (W) x 76.2cm (H) x 3.8cm (D)
in 2020 I began a series of work to be exhibited in Collective Haunt in 2021. This series was called “My Bedroom”. A series of self portraits with various lights and colours abstracting my face and body. Included is an excerpt from the show.
“They’re about the space between where we sleep and where dreams begin. A manifestation of the red hot fever dream that is just existing. There is no lingering narrative for the viewer to break down or absorb in these works just a sweltering canopy of movement and colour which is where we’re dropped off to wonder. There is so much vigour and veracity in shallow ponds, if you went outside you’d be surprised to find there’s just as much life and joy below your nose than the whole world can provide. In a room no bigger than a few metres squared, wonderful things can reside, if we take them to be just as mystified. These paintings are when your eyes meet your own in the reflection in a passing bus as you stand by the lights. Driving past the home you grew up in but barely having a second to remember anything. In sunlight, it’s only the surface of the river that shimmers, I want to see that, albeit my room is a bit dimmer. “
This painting’s name is a poem I wrote and exhibited beside the piece.
“One of those kettles from Kmart that’s clear and lights up red when it starts.
There’s still soap in the mug from when he supposedly cleaned it so now my tea has bubbles in it. Kinda unhygienic but still exciting. It’s thirty degrees at night and there’s a mattress on the floor to my right but it’s taken so tonight the floor is where I’ll reside. I’ll stay outside and drink my tea, smoking and waiting until falling asleep could be described as easy. The sun is rising, all the shooting stars have shot their shots to the crescendo of starting cars stretching for morning traffic. Staring at the last little glimmer of mars like Pablo Escobar moments before ‘it’ he carked. I can’t escape this feeling I’m finding clues that will help me give in but it’s fruitless I feel I’m spinning but don’t stop staring. Birds sing Frank Sinatra so sweetly as if they
hadn’t heard anything I regrettably said last evening. The street lights sense their replaceability and flicker off pathetically. The sky is nearly blue and guess who and it’s me smoking staring at the moon. It’s not even my cigarette it’s a menthol and that’s gross tell the truth. I think I’m starting to feel the dizz, the last little spin before I completely fizz, fall out and fall down surrounded by kindy glitz. Let this be it, really really please let this be it let me sleep.”