I have often wondered what is the soul of human. Is soul a shared spirit that transects in all directions, mutual to all species, planets, and the universe. Or is soul an individual experience, something within, which occasionally meets another soul that has similar soulness, if you will. Sometimes you just have to make up words. Is their even a soul? I can think of a few individuals who seem soulless however I am going to leave that up to your own imagination. It has been my impression that the art I make has a soul. In many ways I have been extremely protective of it. In a predominately soulless art world which includes commercial art (galleries, ad agencies, public art), all of which I have experience with, my observations have been that they rarely scratch beneath the surface of their own superficiality, where plasticity rules and imitation is applauded. It is no wonder that art as we have known it for hundreds of thousands of years has been stripped of its dignity and sophistication. Instead it is reduced to condensed soup, selling things to people they don’t really need, and making a few very rich people in the process. It’s all about the next publicity stunt that will help that artist(s)/ agency rise to the upper echalants of the boogie, which might be considered an art in itself, however I think history shows time and time again it often misses the soul part. There are a some rare exceptions no doubt but every compromise has its toll on the soul. So with that said lets move into a Paul Bowles quote from ‘The Sheltering Sky’, shall we.
That night he awoke sobbing. His being was a well a thousand miles deep; he rose from the lower regions with a sense of infinite sadness and repose, but with no memory of any dream save the faceless voice that whispered “the soul is the weariest part of the body”.
Currently in the studio….a gesture to the experience