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  • i did not want to something that i found cute, i did not want to make mini art pieces that i felt would not capture any essence of my character. it seems that i took this project seriously from the start, i became instantly protective of the whole concept. a fort.

  • a fort. not a fortress or a mansion or some developed housing project jewel. a simple fort. the safe places of my youth. walls of found objects and discarded wood. dirt floors covered with moss or leaves and twigs. high up or dug in. these pieces of myself strewn across fence rows and left to melt in snow drifts. safe zones that i could watch and hear the world pass without getting struck in its path.

  • the graffiti of a society leaves scars without knowledge of the crime. those moments when words and actions can imprint on ones very being a permanent alteration. the realization of different that is forced upon ones person by outside forces. the outside of this "fort" is graffitied with words that were chosen to throw at me. sometimes often enough to break my guard. certainly often enough to teach me my place.

  • there is a transparency to growing up a fag in a small town. never having a chance to be anything else. being creative meant i was a fag. liking design meant i was a fag. fawning over the boys of course meant i was a fag. there was no way to hide. so i changed colors in my surroundings. being bullied may be a bad thing overall but it also teaches one how to survive. i became smart, fast witted and able to access a situation in a matter of seconds. again, knowing my place. i feel it is important to know boundaries, i would like to believe that we all belong everyplace but that is a lie. it is bullshit and a dangerous idea to teach anyone. there are places all of us do not belong, i found it was my duty to figure mine out quickly.

  • religion. the day i told god to go get fucked is the day i realized i had been talking to myself all those years and the day i started to live freely. fuck your god. as a fag there is no place for me in the bible. as a feminist there is no place in the bible. slavery? if you believe in freedom then there is no place in the bible. yet, it is taken and bent and picked through. really? now we are the word of "god" ? we are able to choose and peel back layers and decide what is for us, what the words mean? no. we are our own gods. we have our own voices. we can write our own books and create our own miracles. living in the shadow of death, waiting to be saved, feeling the watchful eye of a being that never was? it is not for me. die fag is what the bible preaches. i wipe my ass with every bible i can get my hands on.

  • the guardians. because i am not above asking for some help now and again.

  • these guardians are not gender specific. they are men and women specific and a mix of both in one being. they are the protectors of my fort. these are my youth, my thoughts and my innocence personified. each being a character that is willing to fight the battle.

  • entering.

  • i love this view. the above view is like a spy photo. the idea that i could not hide. i was never safe, just smart enough to live. and i could run really fast when i needed to. but i also learned to throw a punch. this shot kind of looks like a battle arena.

  • keep out. keep out of my space, keep out of my person.

  • it is funny that i always felt i could be invisible. that i could hide. simply be my person and hide from everybody unless i allowed a view. a sneak peek at my being. instead i found i was always combating the stories that were thrown at me instead of the ones i made. explanation of being, of being allowed to exist. the constant need to apologize.

  • my need to love things that are wounded and abandoned.

  • my need to feel desired and allow myself to run free. let my character off its leash. abandoned structures became an excellent sanctuary.

  • living amongst the decay. there is always life. under the floorboards, between the walls, between the bones where we sometimes need to hide our weakest embers. there is always life.

  • this is the rising. the deepest of sanctuaries. a place of solitude in a war zone.

  • in 100 years there will be no need to dig in this battlefield but there will always be a need to create more.

  • the sentinels and their keep.

  • love. fuck love. that empty promise. we hate without lesson. simply and fiercely. we are taught love. how to love, how to express and suppress it. it is the promise of love that is a lie. stop promising your children any love other than your own. you can not promise an emotion. i still find that what i know of love, the truth of love is well worth protecting. not to be thrown around like some grenade. stop it. keep your love small and close and wound up tight. it is the best weapon we have.

  • yes. pizza is being ordered. so?

  • this love feels different. this love feels like solitude. this is the love of self. the only love that allows one to love another. get to know yourself and start a riot.

  • these aren't pedestals. these are foundations.

  • art. honor. it is my core. even with as much as i fuck up i try very hard to maintain my honor. i protect it mostly from myself. i would love to be a raging drug addled "victim" of society and run around being destructive while reaping all the rewards of playing victim. but... honor. the same with my artwork. i create from what i know, i create what i want to know and i allow others to see it only because i have let that piece of me go. it becomes yours, the viewer.

  • art and honor. always.

  • these words have been spoken to me. personally. intimately. more than once. there are battle scars. that is a page from leviticus these words are graffitied over. sinner, lazy, not welcome, god hates, die fag, leave. the repeated phrases that formed my poetry.

  • "i am worth everything" fuck you! this is a bit of my mantra. an affirmation. i am worth everything so i had better focus on the good. "everything" includes the bad, if that is what i feel i deserve then that is what i will receive. so when confronted with an unreasonable exchange, i just pull the weed. fuck you. i do not need it. i breath with the freedom of deliverance. i do not need the choke hold of negativity.

  • self. the self. the art of self. the self that you get and the the self that you give. these are the most important gifts to be given, taken and fertilized. i have had a couple rebirths in my life. i died with my brother and rebuilt from the ruins. i started to live when i stopped looking for a false god and i formed when i allowed my artwork to come to life full time. self. the true phoenix.

  • sometimes i do stock a personal arsenal. there are moments i want to exchange wounds. i want to be the one that leaves the scars.

  • again. the "holy" book. this pink triangle being the mark of the beast we call nazi. a regime as typical as any other in its tyranny. sad, preying on the weak and the queer of society. unfortunately the hunt continues. muslim, christian, mormon all hunting the easy prey. the fag. the scape goat of millennia. so easy.

  • i think society really did believe that the cure for the disease of homosexuality had been delivered by god with HIV. it became so ingrained in my being to be afraid. the fact that i was a young queer and the idea that just being a fag meant i would be struck down. really, that is what i was told, meant to expect and believed. that this was god's way of purging the sin. not stopping war, famine, murder, rape, incest, religious killings but god's main goal was to kill me. unless i became such a good liar that even god believed my lies. to this day i still expect AIDS to walk into my room with a loaded pistol and say, got cha! like it is some entity of flesh and blood that stalks us sinners. and retard. well, that comes with the territory of the creative mind in a small town. i am retarded. it is a perfectly sound word to use, i am stunted in many ways. i use the word retarded to describe myself when i know i should know better but just can't catch the hang of it. it used to offend me, but then i cam to realize that society is a bunch of pansies and i was expected to be offended. fuck that, it is a great word. that is a page from leviticus that these words are graffitied over. sissy, can't, AIDS, retard, fat, worthless, loser. all the old haunts.

  • the constant struggle to maintain self. the guardians that help keep me in line.

  • desire and strength. one can not be without the other. one must desire to become strong and one must have strength enough to desire.

  • an arsenal and a foundation.

  • the lookout. is it not best to assume what is coming and watch for it? there will never be rest for me, not until death. i am guarded because i am a guard. i have responsibilities to another generation. i have a road to clear from this beaten path. loyalty. is not just to oneself, loyalty is to a cause. i want my son to not know what i have known. i want my son to move freely. i want the son's and daughter's of my friends to move freely no matter their sexuality or gender. i have responsibilities. we all do.

  • even through the loss. the rape. the inappropriate sex of youth(i despise the word molestation) i find that it is not impossible to create a future of healing. i am not one to support those that make decisions of destruction. the drugs, the alcohol the abuse. why? i find myself being self abusive, and only i can stop that. i find myself wanting to play victim and i redirect that. i am altered, i am not "normal" i am a victim and i am socially stunted. my life is more difficult because of these loses and abuses but i am alive and i am able to control many things, including myself. if i ever let go then trust me, you will hear about it. i just have enough trust in myself to not. not everyone is an artist, not everyone can dream large and accept smallness. but everyone can make decisions base on what they want to see in their future. the future is fucking hard. the past is easy because it is already expected. i realized that those forts of my youth were pockets of my future. little strongholds of self. places for me to store my expectations and dreams. moments and smells and rain and snow and mud and sweat and discovery. i am happy to have created these nooks in the fabric of this universe. my spirit needs to find rest while roaming free.

  • my world view.

  • i did not want to something that i found cute, i did not want to make mini art pieces that i felt would not capture any essence of my character. it seems that i took this project seriously from the start, i became instantly protective of the whole concept. a fort.

  • a fort. not a fortress or a mansion or some developed housing project jewel. a simple fort. the safe places of my youth. walls of found objects and discarded wood. dirt floors covered with moss or leaves and twigs. high up or dug in. these pieces of myself strewn across fence rows and left to melt in snow drifts. safe zones that i could watch and hear the world pass without getting struck in its path.

  • the graffiti of a society leaves scars without knowledge of the crime. those moments when words and actions can imprint on ones very being a permanent alteration. the realization of different that is forced upon ones person by outside forces. the outside of this "fort" is graffitied with words that were chosen to throw at me. sometimes often enough to break my guard. certainly often enough to teach me my place.

  • there is a transparency to growing up a fag in a small town. never having a chance to be anything else. being creative meant i was a fag. liking design meant i was a fag. fawning over the boys of course meant i was a fag. there was no way to hide. so i changed colors in my surroundings. being bullied may be a bad thing overall but it also teaches one how to survive. i became smart, fast witted and able to access a situation in a matter of seconds. again, knowing my place. i feel it is important to know boundaries, i would like to believe that we all belong everyplace but that is a lie. it is bullshit and a dangerous idea to teach anyone. there are places all of us do not belong, i found it was my duty to figure mine out quickly.

  • religion. the day i told god to go get fucked is the day i realized i had been talking to myself all those years and the day i started to live freely. fuck your god. as a fag there is no place for me in the bible. as a feminist there is no place in the bible. slavery? if you believe in freedom then there is no place in the bible. yet, it is taken and bent and picked through. really? now we are the word of "god" ? we are able to choose and peel back layers and decide what is for us, what the words mean? no. we are our own gods. we have our own voices. we can write our own books and create our own miracles. living in the shadow of death, waiting to be saved, feeling the watchful eye of a being that never was? it is not for me. die fag is what the bible preaches. i wipe my ass with every bible i can get my hands on.

  • the guardians. because i am not above asking for some help now and again.

  • these guardians are not gender specific. they are men and women specific and a mix of both in one being. they are the protectors of my fort. these are my youth, my thoughts and my innocence personified. each being a character that is willing to fight the battle.

  • entering.

  • i love this view. the above view is like a spy photo. the idea that i could not hide. i was never safe, just smart enough to live. and i could run really fast when i needed to. but i also learned to throw a punch. this shot kind of looks like a battle arena.

  • keep out. keep out of my space, keep out of my person.

  • it is funny that i always felt i could be invisible. that i could hide. simply be my person and hide from everybody unless i allowed a view. a sneak peek at my being. instead i found i was always combating the stories that were thrown at me instead of the ones i made. explanation of being, of being allowed to exist. the constant need to apologize.

  • my need to love things that are wounded and abandoned.

  • my need to feel desired and allow myself to run free. let my character off its leash. abandoned structures became an excellent sanctuary.

  • living amongst the decay. there is always life. under the floorboards, between the walls, between the bones where we sometimes need to hide our weakest embers. there is always life.

  • this is the rising. the deepest of sanctuaries. a place of solitude in a war zone.

  • in 100 years there will be no need to dig in this battlefield but there will always be a need to create more.

  • the sentinels and their keep.

  • love. fuck love. that empty promise. we hate without lesson. simply and fiercely. we are taught love. how to love, how to express and suppress it. it is the promise of love that is a lie. stop promising your children any love other than your own. you can not promise an emotion. i still find that what i know of love, the truth of love is well worth protecting. not to be thrown around like some grenade. stop it. keep your love small and close and wound up tight. it is the best weapon we have.

  • yes. pizza is being ordered. so?

  • this love feels different. this love feels like solitude. this is the love of self. the only love that allows one to love another. get to know yourself and start a riot.

  • these aren't pedestals. these are foundations.

  • art. honor. it is my core. even with as much as i fuck up i try very hard to maintain my honor. i protect it mostly from myself. i would love to be a raging drug addled "victim" of society and run around being destructive while reaping all the rewards of playing victim. but... honor. the same with my artwork. i create from what i know, i create what i want to know and i allow others to see it only because i have let that piece of me go. it becomes yours, the viewer.

  • art and honor. always.

  • these words have been spoken to me. personally. intimately. more than once. there are battle scars. that is a page from leviticus these words are graffitied over. sinner, lazy, not welcome, god hates, die fag, leave. the repeated phrases that formed my poetry.

  • "i am worth everything" fuck you! this is a bit of my mantra. an affirmation. i am worth everything so i had better focus on the good. "everything" includes the bad, if that is what i feel i deserve then that is what i will receive. so when confronted with an unreasonable exchange, i just pull the weed. fuck you. i do not need it. i breath with the freedom of deliverance. i do not need the choke hold of negativity.

  • self. the self. the art of self. the self that you get and the the self that you give. these are the most important gifts to be given, taken and fertilized. i have had a couple rebirths in my life. i died with my brother and rebuilt from the ruins. i started to live when i stopped looking for a false god and i formed when i allowed my artwork to come to life full time. self. the true phoenix.

  • sometimes i do stock a personal arsenal. there are moments i want to exchange wounds. i want to be the one that leaves the scars.

  • again. the "holy" book. this pink triangle being the mark of the beast we call nazi. a regime as typical as any other in its tyranny. sad, preying on the weak and the queer of society. unfortunately the hunt continues. muslim, christian, mormon all hunting the easy prey. the fag. the scape goat of millennia. so easy.

  • i think society really did believe that the cure for the disease of homosexuality had been delivered by god with HIV. it became so ingrained in my being to be afraid. the fact that i was a young queer and the idea that just being a fag meant i would be struck down. really, that is what i was told, meant to expect and believed. that this was god's way of purging the sin. not stopping war, famine, murder, rape, incest, religious killings but god's main goal was to kill me. unless i became such a good liar that even god believed my lies. to this day i still expect AIDS to walk into my room with a loaded pistol and say, got cha! like it is some entity of flesh and blood that stalks us sinners. and retard. well, that comes with the territory of the creative mind in a small town. i am retarded. it is a perfectly sound word to use, i am stunted in many ways. i use the word retarded to describe myself when i know i should know better but just can't catch the hang of it. it used to offend me, but then i cam to realize that society is a bunch of pansies and i was expected to be offended. fuck that, it is a great word. that is a page from leviticus that these words are graffitied over. sissy, can't, AIDS, retard, fat, worthless, loser. all the old haunts.

  • the constant struggle to maintain self. the guardians that help keep me in line.

  • desire and strength. one can not be without the other. one must desire to become strong and one must have strength enough to desire.

  • an arsenal and a foundation.

  • the lookout. is it not best to assume what is coming and watch for it? there will never be rest for me, not until death. i am guarded because i am a guard. i have responsibilities to another generation. i have a road to clear from this beaten path. loyalty. is not just to oneself, loyalty is to a cause. i want my son to not know what i have known. i want my son to move freely. i want the son's and daughter's of my friends to move freely no matter their sexuality or gender. i have responsibilities. we all do.

  • even through the loss. the rape. the inappropriate sex of youth(i despise the word molestation) i find that it is not impossible to create a future of healing. i am not one to support those that make decisions of destruction. the drugs, the alcohol the abuse. why? i find myself being self abusive, and only i can stop that. i find myself wanting to play victim and i redirect that. i am altered, i am not "normal" i am a victim and i am socially stunted. my life is more difficult because of these loses and abuses but i am alive and i am able to control many things, including myself. if i ever let go then trust me, you will hear about it. i just have enough trust in myself to not. not everyone is an artist, not everyone can dream large and accept smallness. but everyone can make decisions base on what they want to see in their future. the future is fucking hard. the past is easy because it is already expected. i realized that those forts of my youth were pockets of my future. little strongholds of self. places for me to store my expectations and dreams. moments and smells and rain and snow and mud and sweat and discovery. i am happy to have created these nooks in the fabric of this universe. my spirit needs to find rest while roaming free.

  • my world view.