tales from a cryptic storyteller

(images by M.V.Manolo)

since i can remember, i've had the gnarliest dreams. every evening, before i head to bed, i seriously get excited for whatever is to come in the dreams ahead. as soon as rem cycle hits, my mind is filled with the gnarliest, most flamboyant, hypercolor, and scarce visions. i like to think of it as my ancestors blessing me with unique perspectives, visions that don't exist in real life (yet). these dreams don't feel so happenstance anymore, mostly because i remember them very clearly even hours after i wake up. as pompous as it may sound, i have yet to see in real life, what my inner mind reveals. once in a blue moon, i'll see a painting or a photograph that speaks to me in my own visual vocabulary- but moments like these are few and far between.

i stumbled upon work by Sir Manolo (above) and tripped a little- as this is the closest to the visual aesthetic that is revealed during the daily slumber. it's not exactly what i see on the nightly, but it's in the right direction.

living in nyc has it's positives and negatives, but more than anything, it's given me confidence in the different (artistic) avenues that i will pursue until the day that i die. i see that no one is attempting to do what my mind is executing (and will eventually execute). i see that there are so many copy cats of copy cats of copy cats, and that i don't intend to be just another...

more artistic rhetoric, i know.

only time will tell.

back to the bat cave...