The Meaning

I’m generally uncomfortable talking about the meaning of my work.

I can discuss my thoughts while creating it, but I prefer the audience to create meaning in a sort of feed back loop between their personal narrative and my lines.

Because really often there isn’t a meaning.

Just a tumbling of thoughts, accidents and preoccupations that hopefully hold together on the page.

And sometimes the meaning might come later… by that I mean despite being the creator of the work sometimes I am able to, at a later date attach a meaning based upon my own personal narrative.

Take the above picture.

I began it in a cafe in Melbourne.

I finished it months later in front of a fire.

I thought of all the stoopdly mundane tasks I had to complete whilst I drew a naked woman. Later she grew a hand and it needed something in it.

I was shamelessly exploitative: I knew a bottle, a vessel, is descriptive.

It’s a symbol that people would easily weigh down with meaning and I wanted to anchor the character in some sort of action.

So I drew the bottle.

Now I am medicated for depression these days and I look at that picture and I weigh it down with meaning that never existed when the bottle and the naked lady was first drawn.

It has been entangled in a construct of my life’s narrative.

She mirrors back to me familiar despondencies.

And makes me think of the song

Take This Bottle by Faith No More.

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