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#02: Generative Energy. The Waking Dreams.

Updated: Feb 13

Take My hand. Let Me bring you on a journey through My Mind. I never know where I am going, but I always know I am where I am suppose to be.


We are alone in this space together. A strange room with no windows. The walls are lined with mirrors which are five by five inch panels that create a gridding effect. The ceiling is covered with a black tinted glass. I feel like someone is watching us from above, as if it was a two way mirror. The floor is concrete and has a shiny and smooth finish, similar to what you would see in industrial buildings. The room feels stuffy and hot, as if someone left the stove on. I find it comforting. The walls surround us in infinite copies, a forever reflection. It feels clostraphobic yet spacious at the same time.

The room is lit with hundreds of red candles that cover the entire surface of the mahogany dinning table between us. These candles have been burning for so long that the wax is dripping onto the floor. It looks like pools of lava. In the background you hear the muffled sound of crickets, as if they are trapped in the walls. They sing songs, begging for freedom.

We sit across each other, admiring the warm candlelight flickering on our faces from a draft, which is quite strange since this room has no exits. You pull out a small silver box rimmed with elborate flower and vine designs. You flip the latch open and reveal a crimson marble nestled in black, velvet padding. You take out the marble from it's thrown and throw it up towards the black glass ceiling.

I watch the crimson marble turn deeper in color and grow in size as it suspends in the air. Defying gravity, the marble becomes a large orb hovering above us, filling the entire room. The base of the marble is burning bright yellow against the red candles. The contact of the soft light illuminates what is hiding inside the orb.

In the center, moving with vigorous motion, is a large carp trying to eating it's own tail.



I'm trapped in a fish bowl filled with water. However I am breathing as if I am on land. The bowl that I am in is placed on a podium in the center of a gallery room. On the right side there are two large windows where I can see the sidewalk. This space is on the ground floor facing the street. It is a foggy day and there seems to be no one outside. Only a few cars pass by. I can hear them swiftly passing.

The rest of the room has paper white wall with four long hanging shelves. Across the window is a mahogany door with etchings of a large starfish. Each shelf has various objects that have no relation to each other.

As I swim around wondering why I am in this fish bowl, I notice a unnamed, maroon hardcover book suddenly wiggle out of it's place and fall to the ground. Immediatly touching the floor it transforms into a golden yellow parakeete, with a beautiful bright orange chest, and peircing red eyes. The bird, fluttering with confusion, flies across the second shelf and accidently knocks over a large conch shell, with a fleshy pink interior. The conch, as if finally reuniting with it's lover, gently kisses the floor. With this brief union, a pair of black leather gloves with a red silk lining appears in the conch's place.

I hear the sound of the doorknob turning. The mahogony door is now slightly open. Is that an invitation for visitors to finally visit? The wind howls and begs for attention. The air thickens and an electric pulse flows through me. I turn towards the window to see a small, dark figure standing in front of the window. Their eyes, delicate and yearning, look straight at me. I realize that I am not in the fishbowl anymore. I am outside looking at a snake in a terrarium where the fishbowl was suppose to be.


Space lends us a narrative. Time gives us a motivation. Intentions set actions.

(From personal notes. 12.13.22)

Dreaming is a space I occupy the most. No matter how much I live in this reality (the everyday life), I'm filled with endless images and sensations that excite My mind. The stories above are two different poetic visions, sharing similar forms or materials, and almost seemingly connected together. I felt these worlds needed to be paired with Leonard Carrington's work. They are not related, but I have always adored her landscapes. If she was alive today, I believe we could be great friends. Bridging My own writing to imagery has been another form of enjoyment in creating this blog post.

I share these personal dreams of Mine because I actively lean into this space. Whether in My photographic work or in My sessions. I appeal to those that want to experience how I shape the everyday world into My own pleasure theater. If you are looking for something unconventional, playful, and transformative, look no further...I can teach you how to dream properly.


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