The drumming of the rain on the window sill is whispering
my name & sharing secrets meant only for my ears.
The landscape has changed. The air, different. Alien. Hostile, even. Artists of every stripe have felt the tremors of the reality shift for a while now. Some have faltered. Some have not. Adapt. Overcome. These are the magic words whispered in the quiet and secret places. Evolve. Ascend. It’s a new world out there, one in which the art of creation is once again fresh and alive, immediate and surreal. To become a part of this preternatural construct, to carve out a place within its borders, requires sacrifice and an intuitive leap into the astral soup of infinite possibility.
Traditional avenues of artistic expression are not what they once were. That is a given. Welcome to the Cyber Age. Now, more than ever, it is the artist’s obligation to take the reins in their own hands, to become the brand, through will and perseverance.
I have had an epiphany of sorts.
Let’s face the truth of it. I am 46 years old. Still a young man, by most accounts. I know what I want to create, what I want to leave behind. That is now what I am working toward. Standing at the cusp of this new reality, I embark upon The Great Work. My Words. My Pictures. Magick in its purest form.
There is a darkness on the horizon and all is right with the world.