I don’t think that any artist knows exactly how their finished piece will turn out to look like. Sometimes there is an image in the mind and we try to get as close as possible to this image. Other times it is a process that is forged in the moment, with little thought, and it is an instinctual creation. It can be violent. It can be one of many things.
Cimpoe Gallery exists right now in a transitional place between the past and the future. It feels like we have a taken a gem and smashed it into hundreds of tiny little fragments. These are the things that glitter in front of us and we aren’t sure how to put them all back together. We have an idea but it is a strange and feverish idea. We come back to the concepts that seem to make us who we are. Glamour. Witches. Magic. The move from British Columbia was one that we knew would throw our lives into chaos. We feel the growing pains. Peter is painting again and the work he is producing are as visceral as the drive we have to make this company something spectacular. What is it all about? What is anything about, really? You all know. Deep down, you know very well what it is all about and it is not for the weak of heart. There is a danger that lurks beneath the pools of paint. The Gods that emerge from this black dept give no fucks about your feelings. Fuck conventionality. Fuck the ordinary. I often go back to the idea of communion. There are sacred rituals we give ourselves up to. Those of us who live on the edge of conventional society understand that performing these rituals open us up to the glory of unknown Gods. Art. Money. My brother and I do not shy away from the things that we want. Art is the ritual. Right now we live in a state of creation. This is not a time for shows. We are not doing events. No. At this time. we give ourselves up to our own sacred religion. We are simply existing. We are creating. This is all that we doing because it is all we can stand to do. We perform the rituals and we go from day to night in the hopes of getting closer to the ideas in our heads. We are tired. Everyday we are beyond tired but we persevere. There is so much do. There is so much we want. We tell ourselves every single day: Witches get shit done