Time is sticky as it rollicks over the mind’s occasional moments, leaving strands of mural-mucous’d images on the walls of conscious thought.
And so, like fly-paper, the sticky walls of this exhibition have captured some candid snapshots from my unsecured imagination. These embarrassing, Optimythic explosures showcase a tiny fraction of the involuntary, inconvenient, and illicit fairy tales that flit constantly amid the primordial background radiation of my mind. Some are brand new; others are old favourites. A few of them are stately and polite, but many, to be perfectly honest, are not. Rather, they stand awkward and stiffly, like insistent pubescent boners in need of constant attention. Since it’s forbidden to touch these relentless desires directly, I seek solace instead by making art about them.
Toronto,
August 2022