I’ve been fascinated about what the concept of genius means from an African perspective by exploring current traditions as well as drawing on the insurmountable inspiration that the world of classical and contemporary art continues to image and imagine and merge in the dialogue of visual arts.
Painting, collage, digital art, performance, poetics have been some of the lenses that have equipped me in expanding my relationship to the medium of photography. As a fine art photographer I feel compelled to work with my own transient centre, it’s the visionary perspective axis with which my worldview is perpetually reenacted in transitory character. The illusive camera in parabola is essentially conditional influences, and a relation to the seen and unseen forces at which to paint with light serves as deconstructing the global kinetic self.
For the past 3 years I’ve dedicated my days to compiling thoughts on the art of seeing and photography as an extended medium. This collection of poetic writings on image, thought, intuition eventually developed a body I have titled: “the genius cult book of black arts“.
It is my desire with guidance from our mentors and curators to develop this project further. These essays aim to focus on poetics and technology, drawing distinct conceptual parallels to the analog/ digital body/ mind with the gaze of a contemporary conceptual frame of a secular spiritual paradigm.
Learning these current white systems I feel as a black artist I’m on the edge with you. I believe Individuals are a people who can still create themselves. Individuals have the ability to still redefine themselves. Reading current political rhythms, art is performance intelligence adapting to the new, the current paradigms. Life today is adaptive learning it’s not something linear it’s realising past and present critical factors one is not even aware of in real time. I’m more than indoctrinations…. Sometimes I feel like I’m the answer. Sometimes I feel like I’m a freak, destructing in nature, Self creating by nature I’ve learnt to love myself and to be loved, beating the mutherfucking system that makes me, I couldn’t be here with you. I couldn’t be here without you. The body and Mind in space isms. That’s where I wanted to go. Armed with nothing but the pen and a addiction for heights and abyss I chose to dive off the limits of my own mind one day deep. I knew it would take more than just being a black Mind with a book to survive my world in revolt, I had to be more than a myth in my own eyes with a clinical eye of an assassin. History demands it. A revolutionary. Genius certified wonders, is prototype violence working with reason for power. Drugs of a bulletproof league, effervescent are eccentric complexity of ray warriors carried away. The nemesis flame & wand bullets keys traveling through me animated entrained by an outside shade already inside, heaven knows I am the puppet oath and the string of ideas playing with my flaming mind effects stolen from god. Hereditary cult like heat to the womb to be original it starts with origins, tradition gambling with flawless chance, sacred hunting graves with stainless pens as lighters. In raw prisms we are the prisons in our minds ruling our lives with bullets breaching out looking like virgin diamonds in the water, because with diversity there is imagination acting on instrusions new to the mind’s fallible gaze of emotions. I can see an exorcist coming, triumph virtue I need a hybrid. Strong as a puppet. Strong as a republic. Often artists in limbo in transit realms are weird because temperate sanity is a screaming attitude an aptitude in writing on stone. Thought up wild men’s zen, genius of god tao in my diamonds drawn in all the roses itching spirits in my speak bending horizons seen in epiphanies I found you in intertrajectories imagining borders, descriptions. Size of shadow science I match you as wings and the light house. I’m still fired up heating dragons. I am asking for you. Sawing these scarlet letters on these white sheets improvising.
The pen is a soft machine with a burning core.
I spring from the indigenous earth handshaking logistics with nuclear fusion. With so many different versions of the same thing. I have to be very specific in size. . As an conceptual artist becoming my thoughts I slow time, separate the space between the eye and the heart. There is no missing the point accuracy is determination unleashing the law of magic. Paradoxically by rule time bends in reading matrix radiating and writing space. In reverse the art of genius is not to see per say in normative terms but in prismatic thought terms. I return to the relative I or the illusive wave lengths by dissolving the “present”as both expression symbiotic of observer in two minds. The self and the self-self. I’ve been sent. Beware, Let me show you, I’ve thought up the keychain. New dimensions of thought began with new dimensions of experiences. Rapture-bility of the senses begins with openness and yet I escaped, revolted, won. Newer, sentient summoning hybrid demons. Forged a hyperlink imploding new ideaspace operational systems frontier occupancy. Be static fusion reactionary reality glitching. Luck is rare, starting out an omniscient hacker. Figuring out how to inject genius levels. The deepest levels of our souls cyberspaces casts illusions, revealing the darkest phases of art and self casting another, fascinated by the apothecary. True Resurrection is vacuum simulations of mirrors in plasma vortex, fractal palaces, sonar skeleton keys to the psychic premises which merge magic-wilderness and ego intellect in robotic becoming, the circumference of my mind.The point an artist becomes their subject genius. Beyond this theatrical margin I enter cultural exile embodiment, a self conscious realm of transcendence from an imbued possession in the normative. From my lips to god’s ears in time nothing is ever free from the fashioning authorship and originality of the human hand. The most powerful tools in virgin minds are not answers but questions. This authorship of rule is powers got me sparking. Art is hack, in singularity of heart one operates its contemporary psychosis absolving overthrowing capitalist apartheid/ colonialists crisis reality with catastrophic systematic culture directionality, explores accordingly the implications velocity that art, & life is experimental activist reprogramming each one of us faced with unrest, undoing the aesthetically infected central finite body/mind extraterritoriality. The age of the reactionary hacker or generative artist in infra-red physiological conditions is an indispensable emancipation machine reconfigured in Africanism as a liberation accelerationism movements. An open mind holds resistance no but itself. Butterflies do scream and birds really do talk, meeting in assembly thoughts resound through my kinetic body like roaring thunder transversing through heaven’s breath and abyss like astral birds in flight moving like winged ghosts on a hypnotic hunt….Alright! Chance breathe… Intrigue deep as the valleys of the solar systems, what blows mind is not the astounding improbability of finding another living planet like our own, earth.The actual miracle chance of existing here now in the cosmos as a particle within that range of possibility officially defines us as the royal impossibles. Truthfully distorted a record raw beauty of ebony creativity the beauty of life when great minds recognize their own Gifts in co existence. Time is diamonds in my hands I want to create. I’m black oppressed and land obscure. I haven’t understood freedom. I haven’t understood treasure and the meaning of treasures until now. Though I am learning about political power, living with inner strength as part of artistry. I will not make art. For everything they rage I will always make madness escaping blindness burning crows for growth.The most beautiful thoughts are always beside the darkest obsessions. I’m breathing and all. 2020