I remember one of my amazing interviewees of my documentary 'Greenhouse of Hearts' saying something along the lines of that the language of art is truer to humans, to madness than psychiatric language would ever be.
This got me thinking: how would psychiatry view or cause some experiences in art. Here is what I came up with.
Psychiatry, you will never know my heart. You can tell lies about it. You can section my heart into little pieces and not put them back together again. But you will never, ever know it.
It has staggered me that I have not contributed to my blog for nearly a year. The first year on my Occupational Therapy degree has been a hard slog, due to my difficulties with sequencing, attention, and memory, leaving little mental energy to write beyond that. But now my studies are more or less over for the summer, I can concentrate on other stuff. I will start by catching you all up on the work I have done this year.
My latest collection of poetry 'One More Ghost' is out on kindle through Amazon for 77p.
I created another website that looks at the flippancy of reality through the concept of time.
I have a lot of exciting collaborations coming up, with Bobby Baker, Julia McNamara, and Interweave Arts in Tasmania. I am also contributing to the Vacuum Cleaner's Mad Love project. Here is an article about it with some of my ideas.
Lastly some visual art to fuck with your mind but always loves your heart. Some more art will follow in separate blogs.
I don't know if you have missed me, but I have missed you.