I've asked friends to send me pictures that don't have a story, but seem to want one. Some speak to me more clearly than others. But, every picture has something to say
I come here quite often to sit on this hump I travel this path that goes over the bump The grass here is friendly, it tickles my nose when I crawl like an earthworm with bare feet and toes
I swing when I want to, today I will sit I might roll around this here tree for a bit The flowers smell nice even way over here They're magic. When I'm frightened, they take away fear
There's a bird in the tree. He's my friend, yes he is He tells me nice stories from the friends that are his He travels way far, sometimes traveling days Then he comes back and paints worded picture. He says
Young Student Below (that's his name for me, see?) Hear what I have to tell you, listen up carefully I know you cannot travel, your legs are not strong But I'll take you to places, carried there by my song
Then he sings and the magic fills me up head to toe And the images come and the magic does flow He will sit on my shoulder and I stand very tall With my friend singing to me I can walk and not fall
So we visit these places, I see distant lands My best friend, the bird, perching there on my hands I can travel and visit and happily run in the rain, in the snow, best of all: in the sun
Then its time to go home and my bird brings me back to this hump by the bush and the well beaten track Then I hear my mum coming, I know how she feels She is sad as she brings me my chariot wheels
But I climb up and sit there and look at the swing and I wonder what its like to sit there on that thing But the bird is my friend and tells me "let it be" Swings take you flying but my songs set you free.
I'm a musician, a vocalist, a computer geek, an amateur photographer, a cyclist and an avatar. Go figure.
All works here are copyright fah3.com unless otherwise specified.
My work explores the relationship between new class identities and skateboard ethics.
With influences as diverse as Camus and Frida Kahlo, new synergies are created from both explicit and implicit layers.
Ever since I was a child I have been fascinated by the traditional understanding of relationships. What starts out as vision soon becomes corrupted into a dialectic of greed, leaving only a sense of what could have been and the chance of a new reality.
As spatial impressions become transformed through diligent and critical practice, the viewer is left with a statement of the limits of our condition.