Architect

As a kid I wanted to be an occupational therapist, a food photographer, a graphic designer, an image consultant. I’m fascinated by the communicative power of image and how things look. I loved dressing up and was the only child in a school with no uniform, to be wearing a uniform. I spent a lot of time as a child observing the world, and gaining deep insight that I couldn’t understand, and wisdom beyond the ability to use to make decisions. I spent a lot of time in the messy world of adult emotion and divorce, rejection, isolation and loneliness. I spent a lot of time with my dad in various building and scrap sites, re-purposing and fixing things. He taught me to cook, and to be self sufficient. My Mum was a childminder, but most of all a devoted mother in the field of building a comfortable home. She was always doing something, an avid explorer, but sometimes to the depreciation of her own self care and health. Or she was so high on life, she depreciated if she stopped too long. She’s a complex combination of loving and busy. Both of my parents are very much, there if you need them, but otherwise off doing something with every minute of their time. No wonder they combined like oil and water.

Art has always been reigning true in my life. I had a long period of artistic expression pouring out, once i let it, to bleed for over a year, a gaping wound long left bandaged over. This darkness, of truth began to shroud around me, like cloak appearing as a darkness to envelop yet on closer inspection is the darkness of truth that others prefer to turn from. They mistake its invitation of beauty for austerity.

I still have that creative urge to release and keep bleeding that dark pool of truth, but it expresses itself differently now. An era has passed, a maturation of unrestrained expression. It was tied like a phoenix in its own feather, spiralling out of transmuting fire.

Now I have this mix of, it feels like anxiety, to conceal the great darkness, or to allow it to come through. Its piercing eyes blunt the tongue of bold truths. That maturation, that image somehow comes through me, transmuted into gold. Its worth in humane expression. Like a vile of real heartfelt emotion, it cannot be drunk to understand. It lives through the eyes of the beholder. The image through this lens.

Now I’m going to study interior architecture, to articulate my understanding into the exterior interior environment. There is a strength that takes over when I disallow its activity, the Soul in all its entirety.

It’s funny because I’ve been dipping in and out of a very small book, ‘In Praise of Shadows’. It yields praise to the mysterious beauty of darkness. I feel like a doctor of darkness. Scorpio rising, what did I expect.

 

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