Icy wind of night be gone, this is not your domain,

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Writing a Artist Statement

I've started writing up an Artist Statement,
here it is so far:

my shoes have worn down i have a hole in them, so now when it rains my feet are wet. i
search the net-some one has posted a picture of Gaddafi's body, some people outside
are making noise somewhere and a blow fly is in my room-i kill it. tonight I'm going out,
we drink till we are tight, the music is so horrible and my mouth and clothes stink of
cigarettes. in the bathroom my cold stupid drunken eyes stare back. people cuss if you
say your an artist, the little man in my headphones is yelling about something-but I'm
not quite sure what, people waste away in the pubs or in their lounge, people dream
about the big screen. what images do i draw when there is so much, what can i do to be
an individual in this mess. what do people expect from me-perhaps nothing i mean,
everyone is trying to write a book. another child born another sucker, I'm just another

this is contemporary, i am contemporary, i should cover this in what i create, should i
paint anything? or just paint the canvas white, just be a quiet voice in this place that

thats all i do, i have become very much expressive, and i cant sleep sometimes when
your mind is running you dont want to stop, and sleep can be such a waste.. maybe-only
sometimes. the world doesn't sleep. but you do. and its sometimes good to go away and
stay out of sight. or wash my pants i've been wearing these for the last 3 weeks,
i have to go, my microwave dinner is almost done.

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