Comic books were my early exposure to art. My favorites where not the big ones like marvel or DC, but smaller publishers that produce black and white books of a violent and gritty nature. My imagination created whole worlds. I couldn’t articulate an intergalactic universe that began to expand into other dimensions. As I grew into an adult I became obsessed with improving myself and becoming a God-Man. I studied physical fitness and became stronger than most ordinary people. I studied philosophy, alchemy and the occult. I found in my imagination something ancient deep and cosmic. Old like ammonites from beyond the stars, rooted in hot nickel and iron. My vision of an evolved culture of nobility. A spiritual majesty that echoes through time, past the prehistory to a primordial core of power and goodness. Like arachnids enduring the test of the Lord. Part of the earth musty and dark, gorgeous like Isha oil that fills the world as smoke. My art, a manifestation of this archaic celestial imagination that rests within me. The primal forces that wrought the universe, coagulated within my unique perspective, an attempt to articulate the inexpressible.
Night Fall
The night falls on me,
like an iron gate.
I am in an area owned by them.
“Don’t let the Sun beat cha”
My mother use to say.
She meant be in before dark.
As a child i never knew why,
but here as a man,
on this street, at this time.
They watch and suspect.
I can feel their gaze,
deep in the night,
animals waiting to strike.
