Jan 082018

It has been a difficult time. My work is on hold, art is all that makes sense. Thinking about time, Science Fiction time which is no time at all. Aboard the TARDIS or some North American version. Somehow, I think it looks a lot like a muscle car with a little cardboard tree hanging off the rear view mirror. Swinging to and fro.

The road at night a long triangle with a solid yellow line, sometimes doubled, dotted, either side dotted solid alternating at every turn. Blink, blink, blink. Brrrrrrt, sleep alert, the car realigns with the tarmac; and the lines. The triangle becomes focussed anew.

But I seem to be ill, sick or some such thing

My symptom is mania from ode to joy to funeral dirge

No stops in between.


Queens and Kings

A pawn for a crown.

Jan 062018

Dear Reader,

I have the unfortunate business of telling you I have been incarcerated in a ward of the Health Sciences. This is an attempt of trying to express the odd sensations thoughts I am experiencing. This includes very strange behaviours of my keyboard, auto correct and software. Connected, I hope not.

As usual the story is one of images and words, neither completing the other, both having a role to play in defying time and the linear. All happens at once, time is an invention and our mistake is to give it a direction.

Exhibit 1


And all happens near a Helipad in eastern Newfoundland. Hot rotors turning the wind into thrust.


Sep 162017

Cassini died yesterday.

Not a big deal, a machine meeting its demise so far from home.

I followed her, she took my hand and showed me many wondrous things.

She will be missed and suddenly outer space is a small place again.


This is the last picture Cassini took before plunging to destruction. epic.