this is a meditative project, a study of blue evoking rainy-day moods, mamma's garudhiya.
lying with dogeared enid blyton in ten-year-old talons.
splashing home from school in blue gumboots, peeling off wet raincoat, eating hedhikaa, watching the labyrinth on tvm with cousins.
the more intense (or darker) canvasses seem to tug at something.
david bowie’s balls crouched behind white spandex.
it could be uncomfortable, downright horrific. hmm, maybe it's just a little nook in which to lie and cocoon yourself with lighter thoughts.
or travel down that lightless vein, confronting something.
can it be admitted?
this dark welcomes all thought.
not necessarily solipsistic.
but is the world out there? isn't everything within? all eternal truths run the course of your life and wink out.
that winking out, it winks from the black, mocking. a for everness. it means never tasting the dross of life again.
wouldn't you rather keep wolfing down the mundane?
white is absence, black is glut. does too much also terrify?
is this too much?
the smell of rain hitting kashi veli. glint of moodhu lonu. surrounded by water and so fucking thirsty.
have you been good lately? fucked a stranger?
the finale is a moment, drugged and stretched out like a caricature. that is loneliness. that is all.
and so, towards solitude – a friend of mine said: let me know when the artist gets there.