I would like this blog to be an unedited continuum of my own consciousness. The common human mind, is like a crudely made biological computer. Something crafted by a mad scientist in the future. Something that teeters on the edge of genius and disease. Your brain is a tiny operating cortex suspended in goey head-plasma. Just a veiny peach in a tin of syrup. A peach that might ferment and become alcoholic with age.
I suspect that computers are enveloping our reality. It's like we're falling further into Plato's cave. They're our own little robots that can be nothing but a raw, self-portrait of the sleep deprived person who made them. This computer doesn't know who controls it. Though neither does my own biological computer.
My art makes itself come alive like an autonomous robot in itself......but it does still end up a raw self portrait. I would like to post not only the processes in my artworks, I would like to add a weekly contribution of the mindful nonsense from the world around me. I see the world only in it's absurdity and I write the random collage of nonsense into automatic poetry.
Ideas and nonsense form some kind of equation that I just don't seem to get.... or maybe I do but concepts only twirl around like a classical ballet. A ballet of mould choreographed inside my tinned peach of a brain.
I have become quite fed up with painting. The more paintings I see, sold like the thoughtless dribble of a washed up hobbyist, the more I am inclined to agree that it is a deceased medium. Painters are standing by the medium's side with a sparking defibrillator...... The defibrillator makes a good brush though.... Maybe it's not an entirely dead medium. I have been painting with used barbie-doll hair making abstracts with sinister undertones to them. 
