A number of weeks ago I had a dream that moved me deeply and gave me great inspiration for the site-specific project. I was in the living room of my flat with a large tall black bucket. I really don’t know how it came about but I had submerged into the bucket, into the darkness, I was naked and the bucket was full of white paint. As I closed my eyes the paint covered my body and I believed I was going to a different place. When I woke I was in a beautiful little village, somewhere I’ve never been before. The grass was so green and full of red poppies. There was a barn, and children were playing. Somehow I knew I was not part of the world I once knew.
I stayed for some time. Exactly what I did I am not quite sure, but I was happy. I remember the sun shining and having the feeling that all of my worries and concerns had been lifted. I was free.
Suddenly, I had thought I must go back, looming inside of me I knew that if I stayed too long I may never return. And like that in an instant I was reunited with my dull, dark room. Everything was bleak. There was mess. I instantly felt a deep depression consume me. I wanted it all back. I ran about agitated and jittery, not quite sure what to do next. I climbed into the bucket, splashing the paint over my body and holding my eyes tightly shut. I stood still for some time, but much to my distress when I opened my eyes I had not travelled anywhere at all. For the remainder of the dream I tried until eventually, when I truly believed it would happen it did. And then I knew the secret. You had to believe. I travelled back and forth between the dimensions, and even introduced others to this special place, until the paint ran out. I tried to water it down, but it was useless, and the dream was over.
I believe this other place I visited symbolises death and where another life begins. This is personal to me as many of my close relatives have passed away. I like the concept that when one door closes another opens. I often wonder whether certain individuals are affecting my sub-conscious through communication or just memory. At any rate that last thing I want to do is debate the existence of the paranormal or heaven as I hold just as much scepticism as the next person.
Using this crow that dwells under the bridge I’d like to send a message back to my lost brother. For if anything could deliver it to him, it would be upon the wings of that bird.