How do you label the thoughts in your head when you stop to watch them pass by? Are they dangerous passions on the prowl for your virtue or just another symptom of a well-groomed animal? Or have you never thought of them as separate from yourself? For thoughts are simply Polaroids of the faulty world around us; we shuffle them like decks of cards & flip through to distract us from silence.
Work is a blessing when gone about rightly: meditative, goalless and sane. Any work that isn't complimentary to the heart is to suffer the ulcer of an unrepentant tyrant.
Sex works in two ways, both desiree and desirer. Spend a weekend with a lover who'll never meet your mother in the Berkshires, on the L train, in the comfort of your mind.
Drugs aren't pharmaceutical – some are technological, others downright biblical. Anything that dampens and disassociates – anything that takes us from this present state of grace.
When I walk down the street, I want you to tremble as I pass. This struggle for “famous” is a mission of reverence – you crave to see love for you in their eyes. But the you they love is an empty plaster casing – the setting cast it took from when you broke yourself to get there.
Thoughts of health concern themselves with decline in relation to your world. The beggar on Bushwick is an afternoon chaser to the bitter youth that live as though just born.
The car before was nicer; pride of purchase came standard. The TV before was smaller; I threw it out with healthy habits. Through buying I'm building a fortress of ensconced happiness. They gave me some coupons and in six-to-eight weeks I'll never be lonely again.
It falls upon us quite naturally, but everyone fondles their ticket – our great last gasp at unrepentant selfishness. Some slit their wrists with “Z's” to an anthem of “I told you so.” Others darken its doorway fifty years or more, fearing its first dreadful crack.
Below these troubled surfaces is the simple core we've abandoned. You'll never get there without stopping, you'll never find it if you plan it. Being a saint is a buyer's market right now; all you need to do is love your shadow. Maybe your true self really does lie up above that next horizon. Or maybe all you've ever wanted has always been right here.
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All You've Ever Wanted Has Always Been Right Here is painting one of the Twin Canvas Project. Craft glue was poured over a 6'x4' canvas and then peeled back to reveal the white beneath. The glue was spray painted gold and the lettering stenciled on with pencil. Each letter was hand painted with black acrylic paint. The letters took about twenty to thirty minutes each. During the five months it took, I listened to the works and lectures of Jon Kabat-Zinn, Thich Nhat Hanh and Hermann Hesse – particularly Siddhartha. The title words, “All You've Ever Wanted Has Always Been Right Here”, were applied to the canvas with an envelope stamp.
On September 2010, photographer Kaita Takemura and I did a photo shoot involving "All You've Ever Wanted..." At Littlefield NYC in Brooklyn, NY. Some of these photos can be seen below. You can see some of his work here.
