There is a spiritual dimension, where the soul is untethered from the illusory material world, a spiritual world which offers true freedom and enlightenment.
These paintings break free from the world of reality, and the illusions that exist within reality. They embrace the Unknown. The formless world is beyond language, it is a state of innate, natural spirituality. It is the only true state of being. Meditation brings one closer to a formless world. These paintings as such are a form of meditation, suffused with words which are ultimately useless in capture the spirit of their intention.
The blood of two brothers runs deep. One brother was denied a future, and the other got to live his future. But what does the artist do with this opportunity? What does art mean? Can it take reality and reconstruct it in an imaginary world? Can it heal fractured histories? Can the use of a creative mind resurrect lost futures? These questions are pointless. It's the act alone which holds value: the creation of paintings.
What sense of guilt or responsibility drives this desire to bring meaning to James's existence? More than success or money and acclaim there must be a powerful creative impulse to somehow entwine my life with my brother's once more.
For years we were together in the same horror film. Then for years we became separated by the horror, repelled to our respective distant lands. And now, through and beyond the horror, we come together as brothers once more: instigated by me and generated through my art. My art is for and about myself and my brother. This is an impulse beyond the sale of a painting, beyond a gallery and its representation. This is art with meaning and value for me first. Beyond that, others to, hopefully. Because art has to be shared to truly exist. Not liked, just shared.
The references in my paintings are loose. Never explicitly referring to that of James and his lost future. This is an intangible world I'm creating. There are no laws and rules to adhere to. In my mind and spirit I make a connection, even where one doesn't appear readily apparent to me. I know my heart and mind are making a connection, a bond, a union, and that it is always there, if not visually, then somehow spiritually - embedded in the canvas. The canvas is enveloped with intention. To explore, to navigate, to journey. Not literal intentions to generate a literal future. But create an environment in which to commune.
I paint for myself. I paint for James. I don't paint for clients. I don't paint for galleries. I don't paint for magazines and website. I don't paint for critics and newspaper columns. I don't paint for friends or colleagues. I don't paint for anyone other than myself and my brother. This is our world, a world where everyone is truly welcome - truly welcome. But it may not be for you. You may not understand my art. You may not get my meaning and intention. I understand. Some days I just don't get it myself. I really don't. But some days, I do. And there lies my passion.
Art has to mean something. It has to resonate deep down in one's fibre. It has to exist beyond the consideration of any external factors: beyond styles and likes, beyond opinions and tastes. It can only truly exist fully when it doesn't exist. That if it is never seen or liked, bares no factor on its creation and value. It is created in spite of any lack of acknowledgement. And it's value exists outside of the external world. It has its own inbuilt value.
Reality is beguiling, but it is the irrational world I mostly to turn to now for creative stimuli, as it seems by far the richer field. The more irrational, the more meaning I find. But paradoxically also a world where meaning doesn't really matter. Where nothing really matters other than the expression of oneself creatively, and as authentically, as possible. Which of course, changes from day to day. What feels authentic day, may feel hollow tomorrow. Such is the creative journey. It is never ending.
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