Friday, May 25, 2012
It wasn't until a person I consider an artist called me an artist that I realized that I can utilize the freakish, constant "other"-ness of my personality to bring new things into the world. My lifelong ability of not fitting in and observing things from the outside can function into capturing, creating, and preserving stories, moments, and characters. It's not so bad to visit a house full of people who can wander with ease into a room, pick up a guitar, and play music while I zoom in on their fingers, eyes and strings with my tiny machine. I don't have to prove anything anymore. I can recreate, distort and illuminate it all over again. I can make them do it in slow motion. And through my silver orbit around it all the ethereal and fleeting last forever. I have arrived.