|drawing paul rodecker|
The content of my work is muffled. The meaning is unclear. I am not sure what it signifies. Something is being held back. There is something missing. Something is not right. It’s so personal that nothing can touch it. Where am I? Am I rejecting my self? This is completely for the self. It can never be bought or sold or even really critiqued. It is more like a journal than a novel. I am regressing. It looks like slaughter. I am breaking myself apart. My audience is myself. I am hiding something. I have rejected art. I am rejecting my past. I am a prophet. I am the voice of my work. My work speaks for itself. I am drawing.