I’ve been told I’m an old soul or that I have lived many lives
you have only forgotten. you are an old soul. remembering.
I don’t know what to make of these things. What drives the desire to embrace this idea…
- fear of death
- feeling that we have come out of some void (we can not remember) into existence which is so complex and layered it is beyond our own (the existences’s) comprehension. trying to make sense of life and Identity.
- there are universal knowledges that we know or have accessed with out having learned or experienced them.
- human ego wants to believe we are special.. yes I am wiser I am different… yes I will cast the artists veil upon me and raise my quivering hands as the mystic who reins the heart of reason in these calculated times.
An Excerpt from My Reflective Journal:
The Dali Lama answers one question, “depending on the artists intention”. What is the intention behind the art I make? I don’t know. is it self indulgence or for some common consciousness?
I see Joseph Beuys portrayed as a shaman and a shepherd. Yet he is still a man who uses art as his mouth piece (there is a great humanity to expression through art) and who has striven to elevate his persona to such a level. There seems to be some kind of folly in Writing as Sculpture by Louwrien Wijers… running around interviewing the Dali Lama and Joseph Beuys. I suppose in the same way I no longer believe in the idealism of revolutionaries for in the end all ideals are broken down through history by human greed.
When I attempt to call up Truth I imagine the otter playing by the canoe, or the loon on the lake at dusk. When I call up Truth I find simplicity – a moment, a sentiment, a memory. The inner workings of something simple on the surface which has countless unknown roots. Such as the sound piece I’m working on delving into this one memory that stands out to me.. which feels so pivotal.
There is sentiment and meaning in sound. And truth in silence.
There is sentiment and meaning in searching. But there is knowing in already being found
When I went walking (and on many of my adventures) I was searching for truth. In Canada truth of the land and what it mean to suffer under the land. I live in a society that no longer understands what it means to preserver under the elements. something which is at the core of humanity’s evolution. I learned for myself the fear of an animal growl in the night and only a small hunting knife by my sleeping mat. The bobcat’s tracks in the snow and the timber wolf’s glowing eyes in the distant dusk. I came to understand that I can not survive alone and at the same time that most are selfish in terms of sustaining the community over themselves when faced with suffering for the common good.
There is an interesting identity crisis that comes with being welcomed into the indigenous cultures of the land. It removes a sense of truth that comes with no history, rules, or tradition and only places mans in wilderness.
A performance piece I have imagined for the winter break. documented by a wide angle video.
Stage 1: sitting around a fire in the snow fasting for one day and one night in the centre of the lake. blending into the landscape. blurring the definition between man and nature.
Stage 2: remove all clothing and remain exposed to the elements standing in snow for several minutes.
one is preservation and protection from the wild while co-exhisting and becoming part of it. ruminating dwelling. the second raw vulnerability. everything lain bare in an extremely painful moment.