It is a well-known fact that giving up a destructive intoxicating habit –be it drink, cigarettes, or drugs – inevitably leads to a resurfacing on old hurts that were being concealed by the compelling dynamic of the habit. A flight away from addiction brings you face to face with the demons you were hiding from. Call it Karma, Call it re-balancing, call it the Escapism theory of addiction.
Whatever, facing demons is always the first step, and as surely as sunrise follows sunset, resettling always follows upheaval. The recurring cycles of nature being a core belief of my personal take on paganism.
So, to those who know me personally (and probably by a different name) it will come as no surprise that I now consider myself to be smoothly passing through phase of contented consolidation. The upheavals of the past three or so years – the systematic loss of my livelihood, my marriage, my home – have ceased to hamstring me with pain and distrust. I now regret nothing. I don’t cry anymore; I laugh and get on with enjoying my lovely new life.
One of the real advantages of the destruction of my recent past is the rediscovery of the beauty of my distant past. Clearing out boxes from the loft and sifting through their contents recently I came across a pile of old old portfolios and a clutch of long-forgotten art pieces. Collages dating from 1994-95 and detournments from “Celestial Medicine” magazine dating from even earlier in the 1990s.
So, with joyous renewed vigour I’ve now reorganised my Gallery, added a new gallery page and posted these newly rediscovered artefacts on my blog-site. Here.
View, browse, marvel and enjoy.
I know I am.
