November Kaleidoscope Gallery, Sevenoaks, to Nucleus Gallery, Chatham.
That’s wonderful, but I’m screaming inside. The Miasma of head thug; the pain; the deafening white noise; that cacophony of thoughts tangled in one’s mind, scrambling into an incoherent mess that will not be quiet come day or night.
From the indecipherable acetate you follow the black wool to a colour bomb of lines; Journeying through your memory to distant plains.
This is Therapy: creating ‘Journeys’ colouring the nothingness-repetitive action-keeps the body hand eye coordination busy. Freeing the mind to organise the hidden chaos.
Until a single line of thought flows -black wool-to the book mark, used to separate each page of acetate to reveal the poem.
The wool resembles the synaptic link of brain communication. Which is broken until you the viewer complete the circle with the bookmark and therefore are able to read/decipher the words of the poem.
We may look alright but are we…