I imagine that life, death, the human body, ideas, knowledge, are all individual concepts suspended adjacent to each other. They're my philosophies. Pockets of understanding. My known-stuff, relative to me. My body lies beneath them whilst I think about them logically. I try to rise above them. Everyone's are different, and I think it's important that we all try to figure out our own, personal approaches to them.
I visualise them like Rothko's layers of paint: individual, formalistic properties of a whole. Even life and death are two complete phases of existence that can be contemplated and embraced in their entirety. But when all these things interact through truth and pure communication, like the layers of paint in a Rothko painting, you get this beautiful beam of light. It's ethereal. That light is the meaning of everything. In true communication it's that ecstasy felt between two people. It's when the penny drops. It's that directness that I strive for.
As such, I see a Rothko painting as an absolute absence of anxiety; layers of moments or ideas or things he knows, all held together by an eternal tranquility at the core. Pure communication.
Collected ideas, inspiration and lessons learned in how to teach, how to look and how to curate.