When images emerge in my mind they demand to be realized. When I say “demand” I mean “demand”. They will bug me, nag me and give me no peace until I’ve created them with ink, or pencils, or a camera or what have you.Not only do I not have a choice when it comes to what gets created and whether or not it gets created, I have precious little choice when it comes to which medium I use.
Have you ever experienced a moment of realization where your ideas about reality collided with reality itself, and revealed themselves as being blatantly false? Regardless of how important or unimportant, how significant or insignificant, how painful or otherwise the realization might be, It always comes with a sense of startlement, a bit like what a dog must feel when it’s suddenly slapped on the nose.
I am firmly of the belief that no image should have one meaning if it can have two, or four, or twenty. The more meanings the better. The more meanings, the deeper one can dive, the further one can reach, going farther, beyond the surface appearances of things.
The Rabbit was born of frustration. It emerged as a way to cope with a reality that had gone haywire. A world that had been turned upside down.
The Rabbit attends an opening night of the “Surreal Women” show, it gets identified as a mutant, and the adventure with color continues.