The Chick

Title: “The Chick”

Medium: Acrylic

Date: 31 July 2010

Firstly, blue, red, yellow and white is placed in large blots onto the canvas.

Then, long, fast brushstrokes (in the same diagonal manner) are brushed from left top of canvas towards bottom right of canvas.

This layer is then let to dry.

Previously sketched pen image of a hot chick is used as a reference to copy on the canvas.

Once, the first layer is dry, black is used to create the outline of “the chick” onto the canvas.

Finally, fast bursts of bright red are used mainly on the legs but a little is also used on the arms.

Dreamer of.....

A vivid vision: of sitting in a University cinema theatre, watching a horror film.


In the film which appears three dimensional, there is a large greenish monster with a dangerous right hand that attacks things around it. It first attacks a red lobster. Then it tears apart a large tail which is made of something similar to the lobster but the rest of the creature is not visible.

Fine! This monster shows off its aggression and strength as though to scare off an old lady who has her back turned to the screen.

The old lady is not scared of the monster and is prepared to take any punishment if necessary without fear or expressive movement.

The monster is without any emotion and grabs her left arm with his right green, claw and rips it out of her shoulder blade socket, blood dripping.

But this feels fictitious, light hearted and quite an unrealistic event.

Then green slime begins to flow down the steps of the path, of the aisle. At first it’s no more than an unreal film. However, as it becomes ever more real Get up and follow. Get up to the top of the incline of seats, fear fills your heart as you may drown in green slime. Once at the top it is as though a chick is playing a practical joke and tries to spook you at the same time by throwing buckets full of slime down the incline. Relief pours through you: get to the exit of the cinema with vigour and excitement.

As a response to a proposal from a woman: there is a small dog, a Bull Terrier. It has a vicious bite that attacks you. Its bite is worse than its bark but once you place a hand into its jaw, there’s a safe feeling compared to the terror it displays. La La La.

The Lust of my Amusement

A train smashes my mind like the haemorrhaging I feel. Lick the blood it tastes so sweet and makes me feel good to know you care.


Hate the ice I need to break. Lick the tears that flow down my face.

Get out of my way so that they can build a cemetery for me one that says nothing of what I was or anything you can learn from me.

Kick my face with the left over anger you have for people who have hurt you.

Say what you like but my life is over.

Long into the night some said they would care, all I ever do is live without a fair.

Let out the caged snakes slippery and eager to get out. All I want is what I ask that you give me a chance.



Unless there is a triangle that connects a square to the left hand side of a sawdust mill then I have no other intention than kill the tomato jackets left in the laundry when girls aren't the only ones who wear lipstick and I like the ones who don't need to.

Girls white belly buttons giving me erections, some are smiling some I dread.

Hate my feelings destroying what you create to entice you allure without sensing my follicle of horrid calculation I come to place instead of the surface you prevail in a feeling of iced emotion and happy isolation for I feel the emptiness of understanding I live without fulfilling the desires I so much want that I stumble and fall before reaching an enjoyable touch of heavenly creatures licking my ears and moistening their lips for penetration.



Wet, moist lips

Caressing my mind

Melting my heart

In your presence to mine

Meeting is useless I find

Until that moment you send your wine.

Like violets so strong I break

Down in fear

That the presence of vigour you

Give with your head.

My loins are attacked

Caressed without mercy

For love was not spoken

Of true feelings devoted.

The tip is seduced

All jolts out fusion

Hot with the lust of what

Is my amusement

Culture, a game of billiards with maddness.

Scratch my brain with a psychological hand of retention. How can I come to terms with what is, is not? When those things spoken about or to, are aimless: such as the indulgence within the succulence of a beautiful woman without emptiness. Who’d believe that today could be a day where I may see myself the way I am rather than the way I want to be. However, if one wants to they can be lead to a divine place, whilst letting go any inner dimensions of uncertainty and distinguishable redemption.


Another side of nothing, where people are unable to witness too much of the way they like to be, with their dreams of ecstasy and shameless behaviour. It creates an environment of peace and harmony. Unable to throw away chains dragging us down during moments of retribution and disgrace is Hell. Hell, a place the mentally ill know too well. A place where there are barriers between life and death and the dimensions in between. An identity that one knows has cracked and the pieces have fallen to the other side of hurt. This hell is a place one can become mistrusted and misled into a time they find nothing else except: non-understanding, confusion and dismay. So if some are able to live without the entire picture; able to make connections in times of pleasure as opposed to pain and live a life of dementia and distaste: then why can’t I?


Apathy...lack of sympathy....

Incongruent....where I’m supposed to be feeling sympathy but am unable to empathise with someone because my ill health is so strong ....it's like laughing at a funeral...symptoms...

False beliefs and false thoughts...

cause: a better awareness of my condition...... brought on a low mood swing... feeling disheartened by this situation...But am still determined to fight any delusions of grandiosity .....

The key here is that I may not know I am expressing grandeur ....

feeling dissociated at a BBQ

As I watched a short film (I created at the BBQ on Tues 6th July 2010) I noticed I was experiencing symptoms of dissociation. Through the use of a sensory activity to assist my senses by bringing about memories and spark positive emotions of self-worth: I discovered I was disassociated from the past. The act of watching the short film assisted me with being aware of a past experience that I was experiencing disassociation from. It is not common for people to draw and make a video record of this whilst at a BBQ. But I feel it was a much more quality experience for me than mingling with others on aspects I had no passion in.

Raped you by placing paint on your Coat?

Art is a universal language. In many ways its another language. One that not too many people desire to have the skills or technique to communicate on this level. And yet so many of these same individuals believe so strongly that they are the ones who hold the wisdom and answers that lie behind a judgement of what real talent within art may be.

How is it when DADA first came about the happenings that were executed as a result had the aim to bring about a heightened awareness of the mundane thoughts that many going to see art in those days were  so accustomed to. Too many people live without a true purpose when the most important thing in their life is material wealth. When at a pub venue the Watermelon Man is wearing body paint then chances are its going to get on the crowds clothing and in turn this can still create frustration and inner hatred towards the performance character from the audience member who feels victimised. And yet, for an individual such as this to walk through society rating his fur coat as of utmost importance makes me question if this individual has ever experienced or actually understands the truer meaning of suffering and pain. If this is the case then how can one be able to empathise with an artist who expresses pain and suffering through a creative arts medium because they are out of touch with being able to access that emotion within the art? When a sufferer has experienced rape for example then chances are their experience was extremely traumatic. Thus, an immense build up of negativity has been bottled up within that sufferer that needs to be released. If they don't release that consciously or otherwise through a medium such as art and or therapy then they may not ever have the chance to set that negativity free. And yet it appears that the sufferer who was raped was violated of their persona (things associated with them as a person/identity). Thus, it appears what this sufferer could do is release this negativity  through a visual and performing arts medium such as walking through a well dressed crowd with body paint on. Then they can show the audience members in a non-threatening and artistic way what it feels like to be raped without actually being raped. This is, their identity has been violated  because their clothing has been painted. This would place a different perception of this kind o experience to the artist (sufferer) and it would also create an artistic means for the audience viewer to truly empathise with  sufferer because the sufferer really doesn't need to be pitied.

This is more so a reality when the audience members were not expecting this to occur.
So, what is art? Does one have talent because they make you happy and it's like cornflakes(empty and superficial)? or  is it about a deeper meaning that one can grasp quite readily. If the latter is so then does that art viewer need to be told what it is they are supposed to understand or is it that they need to open their mind and discover their own way of perceiving the correct level of empathy which is readily accessible by all?

Killer Millionaire Status

Meditate, Meditate, Meditate on this inner innate strength
Meditate, Meditate, Meditate on this inner innate strength
Erratic Movement, CRAZED push, break free
Killer norms embraced by society
Sedatives prescribed to the insane
Get out! Get out! He has no brain!
Meditate, Meditate, Meditate on this inner innate strength
Meditate, Meditate, Meditate on this inner innate strength
Killer norms embraced by society
Laced sprinkled with fairy dust like glory
You’re the one! You’re it!
Here’s my genuine compliment. Take it! Take it! Like a virgin of the night! You whore!
Terrorized by this empty passive, composure: a killer heavyweight, a killer heavyweight
Meditate, Meditate, Meditate on this inner innate strength
Meditate, Meditate, Meditate on this inner innate strength
The godliness in each one of us destroyed, we’re blind to our own strengths
Freedom equated with millionaire status
There’s only one way “The Millionaire status”
You can’t chose anything else “Society’s killer heavyweight will knock you to the ground”
Craft and the imagination: The Joke that stands Still
Craft and the imagination: Feeds the beast instead of setting free the ill
No! No! Your imagination is a sin! Ha! What a loser just take your medicine!
Meditate, Meditate, Meditate on this inner innate strength
Meditate, Meditate, Meditate on this inner innate strength