Case 019
The Strange Things
It’s weird, what we want to make. What I want to make.
These four pieces - they’re not yet grand. Not ten-foot stallions or ceiling-spanning epics. Just digital fragments. I call them works, but even that feels generous. They exist in pixels, in passing. But already they still count. I think.
They’re extensions of idrawheads. That’s the root. But I’ve pushed further—inserted myself into the frame. Not fully. Not honestly. Masked. Pretending. Playing someone I’m not. Or maybe someone I am, but only in the margins.
I wanted them big. Really big. Let them take up space. Let them shout. But reality bit hard. Too weird, I thought. Too much. I backed off. Shrunk the ambition. Left them floating.
The Fog of Creation
I still don’t know what they are. Or if they are. They sit in limbo - half-made, half-thought. I circle them like a detective who’s lost the scent. What are they trying to say? What am I trying to say through them?
They’re strange. That much is clear. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe they’re meant to be strange. Meant to unsettle. Meant to ask questions without offering answers.
Do they exist? I don’t know. But they haunt me. And maybe that’s enough.
