AE in the Dark Theosophist

It was never about art, it is about the poetry of the world that exists within and without me.

When I was young, I drew a lot of pictures.  Then I found oil paint and painted the images I saw and loved and wanted to copy – band covers, music, musicians.  Jim Morrison was a favorite, and metal everything.  My world was angry and full of LSD, hashish and alcohol…  what came out then were the pictures of this.  I could work 10 hours on a drawing, forgetting to eat or go to the bathroom.  It was like a trance, a world I could enter and my mind was gone, for which I was grateful because my mind was never my friend.

My obsession was what I couldn’t explain, and what no one could explain to me.  I loved all things paranormal – ghosts, ufos, demons, anything weird that scared people – it didn’t scare me.  It consumed me.  I learned Wicca, and adhered to it for years, and Eckankar, but read Crowley and every grimoire I could find before the internet existed.  My friends brought me stories, and books, lectures, analysis – anything they could find on paranormal topics.  For the record, because I know the rumours will continue ad infinitum, I never practiced black anything.  Tons of unexplained events occurred, to myself and those around me.  It started when I was 13 and ended when I was approx. 27.

I won’t go through it all, except to say something wanted to speak, and it spoke to us.  It spoke to me first, and it spoke to me last.  I’m sad it was so hard on my friends, and I know everyone involved will always wonder what the hell it was all about.  I don’t have the answers to that.  It’s a big part of why I create, to get it out, to exorcise it, to let it be free to speak in a visual form for the whole world to see.  Here is my world, here is my mind, here is my muse. 

The art was nothing for years.  It started in my 3rd year of university, this nothingness, and continued for as long as I consciously tried to create.  The world that has become my art only came into being when I told my muse to speak through my hands and show the world its own.  My muse’s name is AE, it told me, when I was in Montreal and there hadn’t been any drugs or drinking in my world for 5 years.  AE said a lot of things, told me I was Red, the BeingRed – not something logical but intuitive.  Or mad.  Either way, AE has had a lot to show the world I live in. 

A few years ago, a friend told me about George William Russell, an incredible poet and very good artist who called himself AE.  This was the shock of my life, to discover I was not the first, and offered a certain confirmation that AE was not of my own creation.  Since my life in Montreal, AE led me to Theosophy, to writing and to art.  My muse, the re-awakened spirit that speaks to man.  I like to think I am combined with my muse, and in collaboration we create.  AErebb.  The BeingRed, the experience of the human spiritually possessed by the creative muse here on earth.

All of AE’s words to me are integrated visually into my paintings.  The photo is the base, and once re-created during my meditative state, it’s applied to the surface of the work.  The texture and paint are present to hide and show the image and words – no more.

And so each series is an obsession.  Dreams of Red was the poetic and beauty, Persona was the questioning of within and without, CarnavalRed was the pain and the experience of BeingRed, and now we have Of The Fallen – the question of, and attempt to, “sarter with evil”. 

On the objective level, it is the story of the book of Enoch, I blush to repeat at a time when it’s made its comeback in spades, it is the foundation of the series – as it is the foundation of paranormality on earth.  We come from the Fallen, we are the children, and in our blood we carry on the potential of all Good and Evil.  On the subjective level, the paintings are each one a story of the ghosts and demons and bumps in the night that the Acadian people have told over and over in folklore.  The big and little pictures are as one, and as like all the other series, each piece is a chapter, and the entirety a novel. 

Those with the most imagination are those that wish the most for change – it gives them creative vision.

Infinity (infinite loops in time, space, action, life) is a natural event.

Maybe the reason we live our lives with no memory of our primary (spiritual) existence is because we would not want to live in the physical if we could taste perfection.