Yeah I know I said I'd upload some stuff. But I've been real-world busy. How does this sound:
We, as human beings, tend to think that we are the highest form of life on this planet. In this, we are sadly mistaken: the dominant life-form of our world is the idea. Capable of reproducing itself without a physical body, of evolving in the blink of an eye to fit any environment, immortal and ever changing. The interaction of ideas, their organisation, their mutation, their reproduction, and their attempted enslavement by human beings is the space where my art exists. I explore how ideas and images can become deformed, how they can be organised and put in zoos by the gawping explorers of culture. I play a game of definitions wherein I attempt to deconstruct the tedious dualisms that plague our understanding: art/not-art, good/bad, clever/stupid, dramatic/melodramatic, inspiration/theft, erotic/pornographic, legal/criminal. My approach is undirected, more alchemy than science. A fuzzy, chopped up, low-fidelity, tenth VHS copy sort of art, where every glitch and malfunction is a happy little accident. Draw a straight line, and observe the jerks and meanders. The body resists all attempts to impose order. From these seeds, the genetic errors in the reproduction of the idea by the human pantograph, further chaos grows, as the results are encoded, transcoded, sent through wires, displayed upon screens, redrawn, and sent on. Braver men than I have taken up arms against the mounting tide of errors, but the process by which order becomes disorder is a physical law, immutable as gravity. Must we all be so quixotic? Would it not be better to accept the inevitable, and bow out gracefully to the new age of the pure, useless idea?
Stupid, right? Well, it's an artists statement, and I've got about a month left. I'd also like to let you know that, obviously, this is not the first draught, it's more like the eightieth draught. At least one of those draughts was largely quotes from Cryptic Wintermoon songs.