January 8, 2024

Things that move behind things. The dynamics, the movements of the things behind the surface, beneath the surface. The effects of the complex dynamics of things beneath the surface on the surface. The thoughts that appear, influenced by the things that move below the surface, in the subconscious, personified in blue. The front, the white front appearing while the blue spirits move this way and that. The beautiful white form that develops and hovers like Superman, looking down upon the mere mortals.

Sounds creating images in the mind. Senses felt externally translating into meaningful images, internal images creating an inner landscape. The process of translation and interpretation, unable to fully or accurately translate the external sensory data, leaving open gaps and spaces for new things to appear to the consciousness that are always already old. The complex things. The ineffable things.

My dog's gaze hits me on the side of my face. It tells me that she wants food.

Things get watery and things get airy, but they rarely become solid in these paintings. Things float in and out of each other like they are having sex. The surface bends, buckles, bulges. Furrows are ploughed. Minds are raked. Oh, tiger, tiger, and thy fearful symmetry. Scary as all hell. What would happen if I used black instead of white!

Race is still a valid category, some might say unfortunately, some might even balk. I sit in the queue at the clinic for hours at a time and I observe the differences. I try to make new knowledge. I try to recategorize. I see patterns, I feel patterns. Complex ones. Ineffable ones. I feel them hate and tolerate me. I feel the blue figures moving behind the white. I feel the bribes and the corruption. I feel the denseness and the stupidity. I feel the inhumanity of modernization there the most among them.

I see molars made to grind.