WHEN MY LIFE BECOMES YOUR LIFE - Fighting to rip open the amniotic sack - 2020 vision
Today I read a couple of lines in a ‘fiction’ book ... 06/12/2020 ... punching me into exploring my memories.
Memories held deeply in my ‘make-up’ my future DNA evidence of a timeline passed … MINE
The line read – Everyone's life is a story – Everyone has a beginning a middle and an end.
Mark Morris (2015) - The society of blood Obsidian Heart - Book Two...((Page 206))
I had a flash of memory, as soon as I read the first sentence – it hit me like a punch in the guts.
The punch was that intense that had it been a physical punch, I think I may have pissed myself. BUT... it was a memory punch and so has enlightened me to such an extent that I will render it in paint – revisiting this memory will hopefully bring me a little solace from what happened all those frighteningly long years ago!
The second sentence held me in a captivated time of another, like history repeating itself until the end of time!!! My time, your time, everyone's time, will eventually stop. Sometimes, this will be ended prematurely, sometimes it will be forcibly and other times it will play out like an old familiar record.
The second sentence read.... ‘stirred feebly, like a sickly, newborn creature unable to break free from its placental sack’.
Mark Morris (2015) - The society of blood Obsidian Heart - Book Two...((Pg 196))
A memory so vivid it smacked me in the face with the force of a steam train careering down a hill side with force and veracity, like a panther locked onto its antelope lunch.
How do I embrace both these tragic, yet necessary memories?
I’m looking at: Tracey Emin / Edvard Munch
The Loneliness of the Soul
15 November 2020 — 28 February 2021
Emins work, especially that included in her latest exhibition - makes me want to tackle my memories – demonic nightmares etched into my soul.
This knowledge is changing my direction...
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