Is immersion into the fluidity of an entirely malleable world dangerous you might ask?
The studio is a launch pad for dreams. It is my alchemical laboratory where anything is possible, so long as I believe. And oh, do I believe. There seems to be no end to this fascination for transformation. Everything I touch turns to pixels, shattered noise and gleaming colors cycling through my eyes, and ears, breaking up into the ether: amorphous and intangible. That’s where I live.
Is immersion into the fluidity of an entirely malleable world dangerous you might ask? I hear you asking! Is there some possibility that one might go too far, past the point of no return? And yet, the further you venture into the strange and incoherent logic of the dream, it all somehow, remarkably, seems to make more sense.
Well, I dare say, it’s all just one grand experiment I conduct in my studio. I may be lost, but I will always find my way. As a lab specimen and a provocateur of sorts, edging ever closer to this mystery of becoming, I’m no different than anyone else. Except perhaps, I volunteered to take the plunge, willingly, and never stopped falling.
These shattered pixels and hurtling trajectories of sound never seem to quite add up to anything very real: except the liberation of being eternally lost.
I like your description of the studio. That is exactly why I love being a chemist and an artist. The one thing I might add is that in order to take the plunge you have to trust yourself.
You are absolutely right: the only thing holding the artist back is him/herself!
I think that also you have to have goals. From my own experience, for many years I didn’t do much, because I didn’t have any concrete goals.