REM sleep aside, dreams are the stuff futures are made of.
If you got a dream, and a hammer like Sir Wallace-stir there- you can build a tomorrow. Otherwise, you are likely going to stay put.
One day, Wallace and Portia started emailing and writing haikus and practicing random synchronized inversely proportional mood swings and that led to the dreaming.
I think that's what this is all about. Putting one foot in front of the other, through leaves, over bridges (a vague Kurt Vonnegut reference) until we get where ever it is we're going.
How about you? Are you dreaming? Or are you wide awake?
Either will do and either will get you where you're going. Just start down the path and have fun with it. What else, after all, is there?
I don't remember where Portia and I saw her. Or perhaps Portia didn't, although I remember talk of the technique. Notwithstanding, I stumbled across her work recently on the interweb and love it all over again. See my favourite for yourself here.
In other news, I've been hammering pellets into wood for what seems like an eternity, building something that belongs in a funeral home. And it lives in my living room. I really should leave this sort of thing to the professionals.
Her Portianess said:
I was browsing through some flickr Designer slash Artists and I kept coming across these fantastic creations, all emanating from the apparent same brain.
Wallace here, transitioning from third to first-person. Also, in parallel, switching my eye patch from right to left eye. Tonight, it occurred to me, while sifting through ephemera scattered around my artspace (read: living room carpet), that I'm indeed a member of the mundane-majority. Like another rock star desperate for acting fame, like another high school jock sweltering at the thought of being No. 1 math geek, I'm a graphic designer exploring my personal style as pseudo-artist. Real art is this. A few other examples come to mind, but that's the only one that currently matters.
