Is this some kind of death, seepage of pain, heart-swelling fragility at the core of me, which will no longer be contained? It brushes up against my thoughts, a lapping sea with a spasmodic pulse, an unending body of hurt. When I took three incense sticks around the house there was a pleasing smouldering resin, smoky liquid drift, which cleansed the air. I cast out the bad stuffs that might be lingering in cauldron blooms in my house. An old pagan ritual re-imagined, a polytheistic pre-Christian cult of bundling sage leaves to burn, to expurgate nocturnal wounds––throw out the blast of ailment. The smoke lichen tightened on the night as I chanted my exhortation. I opened the door, banished it. I swear I saw a dark bird lifting, its shadow asphodel shaped. It returned to its logic––to inflammatory night.
Boundary Speak (Diaries 2013-2021) centrally focuses on reportage of my life’s happenings, notes on readings, phantasms or wild forays, riffs off music or footnotes from poems that take me on a strange journey and thought fragments. My outsider artwork is focal on my Re-learn your Alphabet for the Twenty-First Century drawings (some of which are collaborations with my children), my robot series, as well as many other drawings undertaken over the period 2013-2021.