Deep within this dazzling darkness, some strangely familiar wildness is Howling…calling us back to the heart of all we’ve abandoned- and it is ALWAYS howling……

I think the drive to create art comes from that place in our mind where the soul touches our conscious awareness, illuminating visionary symbols of an ancient language we’ve forgotten, but that still resonates with some lost, ever-watchful place deep within us that is much older, much wiser. Our soul crys-out for our attention, casting ciphers in flashes of light across the black stage of our mind’s eye; images spark for a gasp then flutter to ash, but an instant is all it takes. And suddenly we awaken to sudden realizations, of things lost or forgotten that our soul needs us to remember. Usually it is the most infinitely necessary things that tend to slip away, slowly and silently, so that by the time they’re finally, completely gone, we don’t even notice the hollow ache of its absence. I can remember the feeling of being a kid, having such capacity for awe, feeling so safe and interwoven with a world that was a seemingly infinite source of wonder and comfort.

These are the sorts of things that slip away, and by the time we feel the hollowness, it’s too late to turn back and search; we would’t know what to look for anymore.

So, our soul casts its silent cries upon the landscape of our mind’s eye, and these fleeting images stay with us, lingering in that quiet darkness until meaning breaks-through, and we’re reminded to listen, to stay awake, to notice and to care, to let go of fading ephemera, and to hold-on with all your heart to all the infinite things that make you who-you-are.

Through art, i think we can give dynamic expression to the visual language of the soul; it’s the captivating visions that linger in the center of your mind’s eye. The flickering shadows that won’t be ignored, as they dance upon the surface of your consciousness. These are the ephemeral, flitting images the soul conjures on the stage of our mind’s eye. desperate to be seen, for us to remember this ancient language that once maintained a thread of connection between the surface armor of our self, and the silent center, which is who-we-truly-are.

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