I never show anyone the pages of my sketchbook.
These are photos of some older pages. The images on them don't mean anything and they are not representations of my work. They are more like thought processes on paper. A little like a visual diary of my mind.
This first page is in the new book after I was diagnosed with cancer. I was thinking "Fuck You, Cancer" Bite me.
I add quotes a lot. "Reality is frequently inaccurate". This was my feeling at the time. How could this be happening?
I've had a few bumps and hurdles in my life, so I wrote, "Fall seven times, stand up eight" on the hospital room wall. Cancer is just another hurdle, a bump in the road.
I struggle with how to express what I am going through on to a two dimensional surface because this is what I do. My thoughts and emotions occasionally get the better of me like today when I cried trying to buy a bottle of Snapple at the Cancer Society. Why did I cry? Crying is so foreign to me.
When I was a kid I thought I was going to become a writer but through some early traumas, I lost my written words. I eventually turned to art again and spent years trying to get in touch with myself so my art could be real.
Now I've lost my art as my hands don't work and I am overly fatigued.
I don't express my emotions in words because words are dangerous.
I find myself a little miffed now as I type these words out, day after day, where people can read them.
"The threads of circumstance that lead to tomorrow are so tenuous that all the fussing and worrying about decisions is futile compared to the pure randomness of existence. -Nick Bantock (artist)