It was decided at a very young age that an artist I was to be. Clearly, that was the direction to head. Clearly, it was intuited that creating overshadowed consuming.

This so-called dabbling has taken me to many places and on many journeys that I probably never would have embarked, nor expected. Or survived. I’ve been to the bowels of middle spaces.

All the experimenting. The tests. Litmus. Educating. The building of infrastructure. Future gifting. All for what? For self or for humanity?

Through many slogans, logos and campaigns, I return to where it all started. Fate intervening, as usual, generally for the betterment. Will imposed by force or by subconscious processing. But, I have indeed returned to the beginning; full circle.

The mind as the finest art. The heart as the barometer. Souls bartered for returns to glory’s past. Fuck or be fucked. Naked, alone, and afraid.

Belief that whatever you’ve wanted, you could have. All of it. You just have to have the want enough. You just have to transform desire into necessity. Forced, by will of mind and psychological jiu-jitsu.

And, when it hits, it hits hard, man. Blocking taste, rest, and erotic desires. We are the junkies. We are the powerless. We are all so fully empty.