I love art. It heals, soothes, comforts. It also distorts, bends, reflects, and disorients. I don’t see healing and disorientation in opposition. Instead, they create synergies and synchronicities that invaginate me in a cocoon of psychedelia. I get lost amidst all of cosmic space and time.
My art making starts with two things: a desire and an action. Recently, a lot of my desires have been rooted in grief, rage, camaraderie, cosmologies. My actions have been mostly in words, photos, and diagrams. These desires and actions are helping me heal, and they bring a certain delight. They are also not explicitly about joy and play, which bring me such levity that I always gain new perspectives when using/being them.
This weekend, I found myself up again during the Witching Hour, and a smile crossed my lips. I could hear John snoring in the bedroom, and Ziggy, our orange tabby cat, purring loudly, which meant he was sleeping on John’s chest. Our living room was filled with pink, purple, and teal light, and I had nothing that needed to be done. I opened the camera on my phone and snapped pictures of my tongue, teeth, and lips.
One particularly gross photo of foaming spit dripping down my beard made me chuckle so loud I thought I would wake John up. I suddenly had a strong desire to just play. There were no instructions. No intentions. Nothing other than whatever made me joyful and laugh.
What resulted is a short, psychedelic video complete with opening and closing animated titles. Creating, watching, editing, and rewatching the video and its component parts has lifted my spirits so much this weekend. It feels liberatory to make something whose desires and actions spring from joy and play, which sits amidst grief, rage, camaraderie, and queer cosmologies.
Yes, it’s disorienting here. It’s also incredibly healing. And riding the synergies and synchronicities amidst, betwixt, and among them seems like it might just be a way to grieve and laugh and rage and delight in a way that liberates instead of harms.