Hope/Compassion.
Experience/Assimilation.
Evidence/Ephemera.

I approached my residency with a sense of melancholy hope, my work and practice telling of an anticipatory nihilistic vision in the shadow of a cold God and a bleak world.
Stratford Grove facilitated a sort of Alchemy. The fecundity of the space transformed conceptual notions of an optimistic destruction into vivid, empirical experiences of genuine hope, love and compassion.
Balanced domesticity, philosophies about the nature of what we create and the semiotics of happening entreat to a truthful sense of hope, connection and faith.
Queer Hope.
David Reynolds.

Let us invocate destruction and rebirth; a nihilistic vision.
Let us abandon *God* in the pursuit of independent reasoning.
Let us contemplate the dichotomy of existence and the nature of our being in the miasma of religious humanity.

How important is your gender to you?
How many genders do you think there are?
Do you think you understand what it is to be a man, i.e. what is it that makes you a man?
How do you feel you experience your masculinity?

People feel each other, perceive each other, turn toward or away from each other [...] fated to work together as part of an ongoing phenomenon [...] always perceiving and adjusting to them.
Louise Bourgeois, 1997.

That which most people assume would make me feminine in fact makes me man.

I know that when I ingest the essence of male existence, I am vindicated. That knowledge exists within me. When I feel the venereal pulsation of another, I know it is a manly pursuit, a pursuit with a lineage.

I explore where others have for centuries-moving through nature, seeking out that which my mind (man) drives me towards.
This is how I experience my masculinity, not via the false nature of modern men; but by engaging with the inherent.

Here acts of bravado and dominance are at their most basic and primal. They are functional acts and operate outside of society, as do their hosts.

I feel at home. Men were born of water and moved to trees.

The constant risk of discovery an of conflict drives, again, towards an understanding of intrinsic masculinity.

The ability to camouflage only adds to the feeling of assumed and subjective numinous equilibrium.

The destruction of this environment is damaging.

My world smells of time, of spring flowers, of dead animals, of shit, of piss, of spunk.

My abject emancipation also constrains me, it separates me. My world has become a dichotomy. I'm caged by that which saves me; a fleeting knowledge of my own existence.

I am drawn to the miasma, the chaos of the nascent relationships, possible but unlikely, reflect that of the universe and in doing so offer a non-deliberate discourse on existence, function and desire.