Walk
Experimental collage series made in 2006 I call “Walk” and the beginning of my stream of consciousness writing.
What I Hear
4x6”
The times when I listen to others is when I really try to feel what they feel or associate my thoughts with their thoughts and relate it in a way where I can understand the breath they are breathing in exhaling obsessively. I understand the obsessions.
I’m hearing the in between a lot right now. It is a neutral balance of both sides… above and below…in and out…mentally and physically. The perfect balance is calming and arousing at the same time. But the neutrality is a little numbing because I am so used to the peak of one or the other. The peaks are what drove me before but there is a constant…consistent place to go now. Is that my only driving source? I doubt that is my only driving source. I know it isn’t. I am beginning to see the actuality of the balance. The perfect balance should be considered a peak, too. Maybe the balance I have always strived for is real. The floating balance pulling equally from all sides makes a humming sound with a faint heartbeat.
The things whispered in my ears from both sides are what I hear. Every angle is included making the whole.
The In Comes Out
4x6”
When the flow starts and stops again…the outside becomes the in.
The in comes out
The path of the blood flow is inevitable and that’s what keeps the movement unless there is an interruption and it stops… sometimes it will start again and sometimes it will not. That is the risk of living…and breathing and feeling and knowing and thinking and giving and realizing there is nothing better.
The circulation is always close by somewhere.
When the flow stops and starts again…the movement becomes deeper.
The Easiest Way To Remember
8x10”
The colors are so much brighter with my eyes closed and the breath I breathe is whispered to the neck.
What carries me along something? The sticky feeling that lingers a majority of the time blows away like the breath when it’s cold. I feel the air warming and I can’t see the breath right now but I can feel it but the pieces that I see and start to bring them together make it easier to jump to the next when it gets wedged inbetween. The process of the solution takes this thought that has to trigger the pieces and begin to move them to their final destination bit by bit…place by place…pixel by pixel…but it’s when I let go of the thing I see that I feel the change of the surface as it becomes clean. Then I am carried by my breath with my eyes closed and I remember without knowing where the pieces go.
This is the easiest way to remember not to make things perfect all the time. The time will make it complete.
I Know What To Do
8x10”
The black hole gets bigger at times…sucking everything in closer to it…strangling the constellations so they are no longer visible. I strain my eyes to see them and bring them back to their original comfortable place. It’s hard to breath when they are moved. Though...they really are constantly moving. The universe is constantly changing. That consistent change is what I rely on to move myself. It’s when there is unexpected movement that causes the strangling…but it’s not so bad.
Some parts of my veins are bigger and I get a breath of fresh air.
There is a calmness today.
There is a little bit of black hole seeping through.
There is that shrinking of my veins.
There is warmth but I feel cold.
There is heaviness.
My muscles can bear a lot of weight.
It’s calm because it’s numb today.
It’s the nebula spinning out of control.
It goes blood cell by blood cell.
It’s my eyes that have the most blood flow.
It’s the gravitational pull that affects me.
When the calm is present…that is when I feel my heart beat and my breath and my one train of thought that runs smoothly.
I know what to do.
My eyes are the catalysts for my thoughts of breathing.
The wind catches it most of the time. If you plug your ears when it’s really windy…the movement is what you see. The hair whipping your face. The tears that form in your eyes.
The cells know where to go so they continue no matter what.
Satisfaction I Have Felt Before
11x14”
With everything going on around me…it’s hard to come back to the feelings of satisfaction that I have felt before. I know that people are constantly learning from their mistakes…why am I obsessed with that? Why am I concerned so much about other peoples satisfaction? Do I get satisfaction out of other peoples satisfaction? It’s even hard to end with a question because I feel unsatisfied without trying to answer it myself. What is this craving that I have to know myself and help others figure themselves out? The only way I know how to even start and I don’t know where to start but the only thing I know is that I strive for my mentality to be real and I want people to see that without my words. Then doubt comes back…what would I have without words…without speaking.
And when I begin to stitch things together it gives my thoughts rest because it allows me to concentrate in one stitch at a time and look at the small hole it creates. It’s interesting how in order to mend a hole…you have to create holes along the way…some are sturdy and some rip through but you just have to make another hole close by and forgive yourself for the mistake.
Completed stitches have a different kind of pain then the open wound. Is it more of a mental thing when the hole initially appears? There are all the factors of what lead up to the mistake and the pain physically mixed with the pain mentally is a little bit overwhelming. There are lots of ways to get rid of the pain physically but mending a mental pain or hole or thought or feeling is up to the train that leads the way.
Repetition Gets To Me
4x6”
The repetition gets to me sometimes…the same thing over and over. That gives me this perpetual unsatisfaction and I dig so deep to find the next something that carries me in fast forward instead of rewind. I crave those moments. Makes me not want to have any thoughts…just experiences.
I know what I think…it’s just that when I interpret what I think is what gets me going. I learn by repetition and when things turn over and over I begin to process why I think those thing and that train of thought goes in reverse. I always end up in a similar place that slightly different and that’s how I continue on. Back tracking is inevitable now. It’s my own psychology…my own therapy…my own self that is seen by other people on occasion. It’s only when they really look and listen to the heartbeat that they get to peak in to the ecosystem of my thoughts.
At A Peak
11x14”
I need to find the pivot point right now. Which direction is there to go and which hole will I fall into? I need to trip over the wire to trigger the next explosion to break the cliff and find the face in the call to concentrate on. The influences of a younger thought that has been through something different than my own is an interesting influence. But it’s not so much of an influence on myself but my influence to help grow. I watch the movement not my own and I stop my own movement not even realizing that it’s happened. It’s not my intention to influence something else…it is the inevitable. The inevitable is the fork in the road…not the paths on either side but it is the constant tangible division of the real. Either way to go is the thing you have to accept…maybe that is my influence.
The rotation of the thoughts keep going no matter what the perspective and the rotation is spun at a different angle one degree different or on the angle that reflects the light to help me see. When I catch the first glimpse of the reflection then the wind goes through my clothes and I can feel the rotation more clearly. But I get to certain points or peaks or places where my eyes won’t even open and my skin is plastic. The plastic is when I can’t breath. It is so hard to breath. The rotation and circulation become things that are hard to remember and hard to hold on to. Even when I strain the tendons…it is only on the surface.
The drip comes to mind when I’m at a peak. It’s not happening at this exact moment but I getting used to this atmosphere. Change always takes time but is a necessity…decisions are make and there is an effect that affects the things around you but especially yourself. This change going on right now is a unique one…but aren’t they all?
Where The Nerves Are Kept
11x14”
From beginning to end, I will still feel it. And that is what will stay with my thoughts…the feeling…the texture that I write on…the scratching of my mark. Without these marks I have the thoughts that disappear but I try desperately to hold on to everyone. Maybe what the difficult thing is that I listen and feel everyone else’s too and keeping all of them and all of mine is the impossible. I can’t help feeling the others…paying attention to the drips that they have felt. I wish I could communicate more. Feel what they feel…or not even that…let them know I have felt as deeply and relate to the hole of an emotion that is never ending and always now and always unsatisfying but a constant that is true and lived with.
The connections that are associated with the veins that are similar in every me are separated by time that continues. It will either go one way or the other so the tug of the opposite is not actually the cause of the pain…it’s not a pain…it’s a soreness that is bearable. So the cause what the change that happened in a split second and the memory of the pain remains…it has turned into a numbed pain. A numbed vein that still delivers back to the cent and carried out again. It is harder to feel with the numbed vein. And I get tired trying to jump the wall all of the time. The wall that blocks…is it coming to an opening where I’ve been walking for so long? The blood I have found will never really do but that has not stopped me from walking. I forget that I keep walking when I stop paying attention. I know that there needs to be that balance of stopping and walking but maybe I haven’t actually stopped. The drip has left a mark along the way and I just noticed it. Only the connections make it visible or help me realize that it is leaving my footprint, too.
The space between the connection is the place where the nerves are kept…the felt tug of the decisions made and time can not be reversed so the initial tug of the other person is the strongest…the most suffocating. It is the time when the stitches are no use and they disappear. I do always take the time to stitch over the old stitches over the mess…over the tiredness over the headaches over the heartaches over the rain and over the sunburn. I have to keep my eyes open for that because it is part of the physical that others see…that I need to fix. The other is ok to be disheveled because it is my own. When my eyes are open and I study what I see…it is so unfamiliar but known so well. The feeling is what I know it has taken a long time but seeing and feeling at the same time is getting closer to the same thing. Is that what I strive for? I strive for a balance of something…a satisfaction of knowing that the infinite drip is my own that others might see.
Similarity is the Comfort
16x20”
When I think and try to hear I forget my reasoning for why I started this process in the first place. Ultimately…the forgetfulness will always be a factor so I must learn to not think of it as forgetting but a tangent to keep going.
Sometimes it goes too quickly to my head and my train moves so fast that I can’t handle it.
Then it gets stopped and I am paralyzed.
This is the way the circulation occurs going around the surface and within. It’s the continuation of the place I like to go. The place where I find what I’m looking for even though the thing I’m looking for is different each time and I never know what I’m looking at until I actually find it. There is so much going on and so much to think about that my place gets lost so easily…so easily. It makes me tired but excited at the same time because this time around, the tracks are a little further apart…the jump across the ravine is a challenge that I need right now. I am willing to jump and the view from above is breath taking. I can feel my breath leaving my lungs and my heartbeat slows and I realize that this is what I’m looking for.
The sensitive parts make me feel another layer of this thought in a way that helps the circulatory flow and reminds me of the obvious parts that others seem to see first.
The center is what I try to focus on…then things fall into place.
Inbetween the spaces where there is nothing…I want to fill it. I crave to know that something exists. I like to think that my thoughts are enough. That is the only way I can remain inbetween…suspended equally. And when I think about the thoughts that I’ve had before, memories start to return. That is what I use to fill the spaces that I crave to fill.
With everything I consume I try to moderate because I know that over indulgence is another factor that will make me forget. As long as I remember the feelings I will be ok.
The similarity is the comfort that keeps me going…always.
On Either Side Thoughts Accumulate
8x10”
The window that is looked through can be interpreted in an infinite amount of ways. On either side the thoughts accumulate and take form…the inside and out. The inside is where I like to be a majority of the time. It is where I know the train…it is almost too predictable. But then I remember the time the out was occupying me and those extremes are what push the in. I appreciate the influences of the thoughts around me…the peaks of emotions stabbing the breath coming out of both of us. At that peak is when I look through the window no matter which side I am on and I see both sides combined at that peak. It is what I interpret that becomes the captured moment.
Then there is the separation between the two that get further apart as the time goes by…the time goes by too quickly and I can’t see everything or hold on to everything that I see. Pictures can only hold so much and my reactions can only be so quick to press the trigger to capture the right moment but I have to blink because the shades aren’t drawn all the time…there aren’t always clouds blocking.
Waking up in the morning and taking the first conscious breath…the first of light after the adventure in my thoughts where I feel unsatisfied with an unconcluding story…it is…it is…a moment I recognize as not fully conscious but the routine that is gone through by more than one for different reasons. I like to think that about the adventures just experienced and relate it to my physical adventures or encounters…I like to dig too deep and use both the mental and physical adventures to live with a balance that is new.
What Happened Before
16x20”
During the times when I feel like I’ve physically slowed down my train runs off the track and there are no directions to find my way. The way is lost forever. There are always new ways to go but it saddens me when it is so sudden. It’s tiring and it wears down my lungs that make it an effort to breath. But that effort is when I remember that I still am moving along some path of dark woods where the twigs and branches scratch my skin and tear my clothes. I like to stitch things back together…stitch myself back together. I am quick healer but it always leaves a scar. The scar is a constant reminder of what just happened and what happened before. Then the physical and the mental of myself become a step closer and that’s what was the original train that I rode for a long time in the beginning.
When my skin gets caught on the branches and twigs and even the thorns, that is the time to examine the hole and pick out the thread and needle. This is important because the breath that is taken contains that moment and it calms me.
The waves that come out of the beat seem to linger more than the beat itself. It’s the energy that runs through the air. It’s the solid breath that is tangible to the touch and only visible when you close your eyes. When it beats irregularly…others unconsciously feel the tingle of air that interrupts the train of thought for a brief moment.
The moment when the stitches pull the pieces together…it feels like the change is getting one miniscule step closer to the way things were before physically.
I’ve learned that you can never go back to the way you once were mentally.
This is through the experience.
Interpretations Will Always Be
16x20”
The reason is that I want to dig deeper and the only way to do that is to rethink and rethink and redo and retry and relive.
To the blood cells that keep moving when my thoughts are ready to quit…
They are one part of what I have to remember when it’s quitting time.
For my reasons are sometimes unknown until later when I realize what I was thinking and how I reacted.
And the same thing when my analyzations come out of my mouth and they sound different then how I was thinking but it’s too late because interpretations will always be there.
There is a reason why I do what I do when I do it.
The thing is that my thoughts never stop and my thoughts carry my blood cells.
And cells rejuvenate and create more cells to carry more things.
All these things make me always want more and to satisfy this craving.
