Decrepitate

I feel interwoven; it's just the froth.

What is to stop the fields of imagination from becoming frivolous & irresponsible? How is it possible to grade information & experience, thereby weeding out bits of thinking which serve only to deceive or misinform? Can imagination function at its greatest potential when fed regular helpings of disinformation & fantasy? How might we purify this process so that the imaginative function begins with a seed of pure truth? A sense of reason expects nothing less.

Is the passage of time a metric in imagination's astonishing power? To afford space for a creative mind to weave the warp of private illusion, into the weft of expectation, time must be held in check. When I wait for creative process & sustain the clarity which stops any re-directing or starting over when I do not like what is being shown, I fall under the spell of brilliant cinema. The time afforded this gestation pulls attention inward, toward thought forms which breathe like fractals, expanding & spinning into something alive.

This is when the process works. 

This part is tricky: when I try to imagine myself in the future, looking back to where I am now, it is false remembering, tinged in either nostalgia or vanity. Depending on the circumstances which launched a projection. I peel inside the time capsule to anticipate the shock of the people who open it. This is the imagination of a deprived ego.

 I always cry at the scene of my own funeral.


{Photography by Antonio Mora}