Another of my creations. I have put up a separate place for my artwork… check the artwork tab of course.
I was having dinner with some friends a while back and I was asked if I had watched twelve years a slave. My friend who asked me about this had actually given me the movie on portable storage to watch. I did put the movie on and give it a go but turned it off when it took the turn I knew it would inevitably take. Very early in the movie we come to the scene where the protagonist starts getting berated and this was a doozy because this was an image of a man’s freedom being taken. Not the normal brutality toward people who only know life as property. In this scene they have the gentleman shackled and he is telling them that he is legally free. The captor looks at him in the eyes and says with a sneer something like “you ain’t nothing but a nigger” and thats when I turned that shit off. This truth is exactly what I recounted to the questioners and I was greeted with mild resistance. The gut reaction was in response to me waving off this movie about “our history” as unacceptable or something.
The truth is I did find it unacceptable. I find them all unacceptable because they keep telling the same stories. I have no desire to keep subjecting myself to these history lessons that the machine insured I was taught in school anyway. There are thousands of years worth of human history outside of the african slavery period and Africa seems to be the cradle of humanity. I know how rich human history is outside of the scope of American perception management. I have sought out information about the reality of world history as opposed to rolling in the scraps they offered me in secondary school. While some cling to shallow sibilances of culture others still resign to american identity and being otherwise culture-less they therefor live in a state of uneasy assimilation. Constantly regurgitating such a small slice of human history for a group of people who have been starved for connections to ancient lineage and customs is obviously detrimental. With that said I don’t believe this repetition an accident, there is a spirit of slave mastery behind it.
I will not entertain another slave narrative because at this point I have no doubt that it serves to reinforce the idea that Africa and therefore americans of african descent had no history before our ancestors were kidnapped to be raped repeatedly and used as free labor. I won’t have trauma transmitted at my cells containing genetic information from people who experienced these things first hand. I reject these films because they are reinforcing fear conditioning from the cellular level even unlocking and strengthening traumatic memories in the subconscious mind. I don’t believe anyone knows the complete inner workings of the human mind and body. Authorities on the subjects know less than most think and DNA is hugely mysterious. I’m just thinking about my double helix.
Once I fully explained my observations mild resistance turned into complete support because like most of the mechanisms of the empire this one is carefully disguised but once exposed its plain to see. All I needed was a nudge in the right direction myself so I knew all I had to do was articulate and it would all open up. My friends and anyone who hears my thoughts on this may agree or not and that is of no concern to me. Fully sharing my reasons with them and here is intended to inspire critical thinking about what is constantly on the information menu and what never is. To serve as a reminder of two points. The empire has made no one better off and the only history the indigenous peoples of America and Africa will be offered by hollywood elites is the tiny piece altered for them by brutes because they are of the same spirit.
The slave knowing her history may choose the way of her ancestors making continued enslavement possible only through physical force.
When I was a kid I would draw and sketch at school when we had free time and sometimes while the teacher was talking about something or another. I just created from my heart, something I was very good at at that time. I found myself creating all these images of powerful women. As my artistic vision developed my mind’s eye presented this as fire breathing and flying women. Prior to second grade the images had just been of the human form as I played around and developed technical skill. Once I understood the concept I created women fully in the throughs of pregnancy. I had no tool box for fully developing the ideas that I had in my mind at the time but looking back I see it’s easy to analyze. I was creating art depicting women doing what I thought made them amazing, creating life and breathing a force of light energy like fire into the world. It was all symbolic of my innate reverence for the feminine creative force, the women themselves simply represented this. Over time as my second grade teacher began to notice my art she made it very clear that she did not believe I should have been putting these images onto paper. She was apparently made extremely uncomfortable by what she saw in my art. I believe it was more my fearlessness pride and even gratitude surrounding the strong influences of this energy on my personality and life path. Not so much that I was creating the images, I don’t recall there being anything graphic about the images. I think she even felt the dryness of suppressed rage that I at such a young age was so secure in something that in her mind should have been taboo to me. What this lady didn’t understand was that I at even that age somehow understood where my propensity for creativity came from. This was not about her gender identity or mine but much deeper and beyond something so trivial and 4 dimensional. At such an early age it is difficult not to absorb temporarily some of that negativity even if you don’t stop doing what you do. I began to feel so ostracized by both her and other students that I didn’t want people to see my art. I began to believe myself strange because I kept creating inflammatory images without trying to. My art became shallow and directed from an exterior world view as I no longer thought I should show people what was in my heart because it scared them. I had been censored for the first time in my life but this would not be the last time the attempt was made. She had given the beginners course on how to deal with the wider world. Her message had been audit your creative thoughts before committing them to reality unless you want to be cast off as a lunatic. It cost me several years without inspiration but I’m grateful I have this event to look back on. It was the beginning of my life lesson in self expression despite and in the presence of adversity. So fuck you lady wherever you are, no hard feelings but I don’t give a shit how much anyone hates something I produce from my heart because those things are pure little pieces of me.
Censorship is death ♥
He met her in spirit form. He styles himself like her because he thinks she is beautiful. She helps him because she appreciates this. She thinks he is beautiful too. He is a reflection of her, seen through the mirror of ether, of infinity. She spins color music and all things creative from her core. She lends the color from her drape to his life. It is far beyond any one hue yet creates the shade of everything.
Invigorating pose you can whip out during your daily activities. ♥