After a while of studying climate change, a tricky thing happens. You start to see destruction in everything. Passing cars, bricks, glue, food, trees, rivers, birds, snack wrappers, shoes. Even kids and their gifts. Every single thing around you becomes evidence for epic demise. Your vision may blur, your blood may acidify, your eyes may lower as you watch the world march on. At some point, it becomes clear that you have no choice but to either desperately search for life in all that waste, or let it kill you. You begin a thirsty and primal search for beauty. And it turns out you can find it. But it is found in the strangest of places, lonely places, places where edges dissolve. You find it when you wander down the path of spirit, into caves where you witness gods making love to horror-laden materials. You find it in indefinable deserts where all you can see is your wandering soul and aching bones. The only thing you can do is go outside of the reality you’ve been given, into a weird and confusing way of knowing, into instinct, and then back out again. In this dying world, the search for beauty may drive you mad.
I’ll update this periodically but for now I hope you enjoy these snippets of my ongoing, seething, decadent, invigorating, teeth-gritting, cardiovascular and soul-shaking relationship with what I am most entangled with in this world: paint, brush, and canvas.
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