Reflections on communism, inspired by the water colour of a Korean artist/friend/soldier that I crossed paths with in the wise city of Sofia, Bulgaria.
Silent things are not for conquering
Premise: we are thriving off the lives that criss-cross around us, leaving paper trails.
Sense is the seeing, believing, the touching, tasting, the being
The slopes that rise and fall With our breath between them Are a sihloutte of green hips On the horizon: Suspended across the skies In an effortless sprawl, They are wild thighs To the wondering mind As a pen is to paper The incarnation of daydreams.
We pepper our words for the common feast
Matter born of mind is never strictly unnatural
On many occasions I have tried to find the moment of ‘solitude’ that directors write into desolate scenes. Believing that we are all thoroughly interconnected, I have found it utterly impossible to feel alone, however, or even marginally dissatisfied in the company of strangers. Thoughts inspired by Marx and Hegels documents on art and being as a social entity.
Humanising the other is important in city life. Who is next to you on the train? Written from the Central line carriage, The Locker Room asks ‘what builds the social and cultural dynamic of the place you live in?’
Are these clothes the colour of my insides? Are yours?