Bullet in the Brain Pan

This one is a sister piece to Io Pan.  It was created from the same source material, but with a very, very different outcome. Io Pan seems to be moving towards some greater cohesion whereas this piece is about violent dissolution.

On an unrelated, but related note, I recently watched I saw the Devil for the first time.  The movie is dramatically gory, but as I was discussing with my friend Josh, it is gory with a purpose.  You need to feel knee deep in blood by the end of that movie.  I feel as though that kind of aesthetic applies to my pieces like this.  This piece is difficult for me to look at because it should be.  I feel I need to make a counterpoint here.  The movie Hostel and those of a similar make like the SAW series, are simply torture porn to me.  I Saw the Devil is a story about Revenge and all that it entails.  In Hostel, we are watching torture with no other overtures or elements.  In I saw the Devil the director takes you through the horror of the situation to bring you to an ultimate point of tragedy.

I guess I'm justifying a bit here because I was nervous about this piece from the moment I created it.  I'm not afraid of gore and the visceral reaction it evokes from me, but there is a line.  I do not want my pieces to be gory for the sake of aesthetic violence.  I guess my question becomes then...Where is the line?

{Digital images manipulated in Photoshop}

Suicide Set Part I: Panic

In Mid-November of 1998 I attempted suicide by swallowing a bottle of muscle relaxers.  My life at the time felt completely out of my control and I felt myself sliding into darkness, but I felt powerless to stop it. I created the drawings in the suicide set just before my attempt.  I don’t remember drawing these pieces.  Looking at them now I realize that they are based on the four elements, but at the time I don’t recall intentionally directing them that way.  I was drawing more out of emotional desperation than any kind of intent.

Panic addresses my inability to communicate.  No matter how hard I tried, it seemed that my ability to verbalize my needs was stifled and choked.  The air was running out and I think I knew on some deep level that I was running out of time.  That the opportunity to fight back was quickly evaporating.  I was sliding into the final darkness and felt I had no way to stop the descent.  I felt completely powerless.

I really only understand any of this after analyzing in the years following.  During the event I felt removed from myself.  The month preceding my attempt, I felt like I was on auto pilot.  A ghost robot of myself set for self destruct.

I would like to note on the side of safety and communication that today, despite the difficulty of my current set of life circumstances, that I do not in any way feel suicidal.  It is simply that the time has come to share these pieces.

{Sharpie}