Obsession
There’s a cluster of nuclei at the center of your brain. A slight rise above and behind the ears. A conglomerate structure. The Ventral Striatum, it’s called. A part of the Basal Ganglia, I’m told. Sometimes its activation lowers. It stops tracking the value of stimuli. It loses interest in outcomes, expectations, anticipation, and rewards. When nothing feels gratifying or satisfactory. Nothing feels enjoyable or fulfilling. Anhedonia, it’s been named. When everything feels like nothing.
But sometimes, for reasons we can’t define or explain, something changes. Sometimes better. Sometimes worse. Sometimes a reprieve. Sometimes insult to injury. Something lights up the Orbitofrontal Cortex, I believe it's called. Or is it the Anterior Cingulate, they say? Or, is it both of them? Either separately or in tandem? If it’s not one cortex it's another. Who can keep them straight? It’s something at the front of your brain. Right above your eyes. At the forefront of your mind. Obsession. Compulsion. Fixation. Want. Desire. Need.
It’s a fine line between passion, a healthy obsession, and toxicity. Addiction, some might call it. Between frustration, drive, spite, desperation, exclamation, and apathy. Between giving up, falling apart, figuring it out, breaking through, and continually spinning. Relapse, recovery, and sobriety, one or all of the above I’m told comes into play. But, maybe that’s just me.
I love art, words, and making things. When all three become the same thing. It’s a drug I can't get enough of. A fixation I can’t ignore. I love language and images. If I could draw well enough I’d make comics. When I was a kid that’s what I wanted to do. But I can’t so I make collages. I make do.
I’ve been obsessed with David Carson’s work since I first saw it. A graphic designer who incorporates collage. Hates grids, formulas, and rigid structure. Loves irregularities and breaking rules. I watched his masterclass. Watched it again. Started it over. And then once more just to be safe.
And then there’s Chris Ashworth and my unhealthy relationship to his Instagram feed. Another graphic designer. This one obsessed with typography and making it as gritty and as distressed and as interesting as it can be.
Adam Savage says that being a maker “means giving yourself over to your obsession”. Who am I to disagree? But sweet dreams as well as dark nightmares are made of these, when you’re obsessed with something that challenges your abilities. That pushes you beyond what you’ve done and what you know how to do. When you’re trying to relish an influence without veering into mimicry. Stealing without becoming a plagiary. When you’re trying not to let iteration become OCD.
I’m trying to learn how to make letters and phrases into something structural. “The word is an image”, Burroughs says. And I believe him. Language is always-already representational. Contains both meaning and aesthetic qualities. Something with texture, and history, and weight of its own. A collection of symbols depicting a piece of something out in the world. Always the finger pointing, but never the thing-in-itself-ness of the moon. I’m learning that communication and legibility, while not mutually exclusive, are not the same things.
It’s an obsession. And like all creative expressions or one’s obsession, it’s really fucking hard.
It’s that obsession that “binds us to the things we make”, Savage says. It’s the draw, the pull, the force, the gravity. But, sometimes it’s also why we hate it. The thing that eats away at us. That drives us crazy. That takes us the closest to a clinical diagnosis of insanity. It’s hard to get the balance just right. And if you do, if you crack the code, could you tell me?
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I love the chorus of statements in this already - I’m told, it’s been named, it’s called… this demonstrates an understanding, an insight of where you have obtained the information from. Like it’s justified because you learned it. Because you bothered to find out.
‘I believe it’s called…’ the repetition of ‘sometimes’ also calls that adamancy from the first paragraph into question - writing skills at their best here!
Great listing too.
There are definitely things a picture can say better than words… capture an exact feeling and share it with those who come into contact. I think your work is a glorious mix of both of these things - even through the art of arrangement. You use dual coding to its best, stimulating both verbal and image codes.