The Early Artist
I started at three.
Finger paint.
Paper.
Color everywhere.
Imaginary worlds.
Dinosaurs.
Muscle men,
Mountains.
Wildlife.
I didn't think.
I made it.
Insict.
It was always there.
The Rebellion
Streets.
Graffiti.
Scale.
Risk.
Lines crossed.
Trouble followed.
Drugs.
Experimentation.
Escape.
Still creating.
Chaos everywhere.
Art stayed.
The Burn
I went to far.
Gasoline.
Fire.
It exploded.
Flames took my face.
My hand.
Almost took my sight.
I shut my eyes in time.
Third degree burns.
Months to heal.
Everything stopped.
Everything changed.
I got sober.
I chose health.
Focus.
Discipline.
Art became everything.
The Recognition
Someone saw it.
A teacher.
Pushed me further.
Made me focus.
Emily Carr.
Study.
Discipline.
Refinement.
Awards.
Press.
From chaos,
something real.
The Identity
There was a version of me
no one saw.
I wasn’t always this.
No stage.
No audience.
No identity.
Just a quiet kid
trying to understand himself.
Art was the only place
that felt honest.
Before the performances.
Before the controversy.
Before Art Sexualism.
There was just me.
Transformation
I built it.
Piece by piece.
Strength.
Discipline.
Control.
Before I used the body
to create the work,
I made the body the work.
The Foundation
Ten years in fine art.
Anatomy.
Figure drawing.
Photography.
I studied the body
from every angle.
It cost me.
I stayed longer.
Dug deeper.
Pushed past the program.
Before the stage.
Before the performance.
Before Art Sexualism.
I learned control.
There was discipline.
There was obsession.
There was the work.
The Silo
The space found me in 2004.
I was still studying fine art
but I knew I needed
something of my own.
So I went looking.
This became it.
A private studio.
A place to experiment.
To push boundaries.
To work without interruption.
This is where it began.
Finding Myself
I started experimenting.
Abstract.
Figure.
Mixed media.
No pressure.
No audience.
Just curiosity.
I stopped thinking.
I started feeling.
The body was always there.
Not a statement.
Part of the process.
Marks became movement.
Movement became expression.
I didn't have a name for it.
But I could feel it changing me.
The Exploration
Control started to slip.
Bigger.
Faster.
Louder.
I stopped directing.
I started reacting.
MESS. ENERGY. INSTINCT.
No rules.
No permission.
Just movement
Just force.
Something took over.
I didn't fight it.
I followed it.
Live Art
I stepped in front of people.
Everything changed.
The work wasn't private anymore.
It was happening in real time.
Energy moved through the room.
The audience became part of it.
Energy.
Reaction.
Connection.
No distance.
No separation.
This was no longer painting.
This was performance.
TRANSITIONAL CULTURE
Before Art Sexualism,
there was transformation.
An early performance work exploring
identity,
discipline,
ritual,
and the psychological space
between versions of the self.
The body became sculpture.
Performance.
Evidence.
This was the beginning
of using transformation itself
as the artwork.
Stripping
I removed
everything.
Control.
Ego.
Distance.
No barrier.
No mask.
Just the body.
The body
became
the work.
The Shift
I stopped trying to fit into something
that didn’t exist.
The pressure stayed.
I used it.
The fear didn't leave.
I moved anyway.
I stepped into it.
I let it take over.
Everything changed.
This was the beginning.
Art Sexualism
This was the beginning.
I stopped separating
art and sexuality.
Paint.
Contact.
Imprint.
Arousal became form.
The body became the tool.
This was the birth of
Art Sexualism.
FOR GORDON
Some losses do not disappear.
They become part of the structure
underneath everything.
After Gordon died,
The work changed.
So did I.
What followed was not collapse.
It was clarity.
Everything sharpened.
The way I loved.
The way I traied.
The way I created.
There was no longer space for
distraction or hesitation.
Only direction.
That direction became a system.
The Practice
What began as a single act
became a language.
Repetition built in.
Instinct refined it.
No templates.
No shortcuts.
Just the body.
Refined through repetition.
Until it held.
The Stage
It didn't stay private.
The work became performance.
The performance became spectacle.
The room shifted.
All eyes locked in.
No distance.
No restraint.
Just the body.
On display.
In command.
This is the act.
The Breakthrough
I was seen.
Two minutes.
One portrait.
No second chances.
I made it work.
Everything changed.
It went viral.
The Evolution
I refined it.
Pushed it further.
I defined it.
This is Art Sexualism.
Not a performance.
A practice.
A body of work,
A language.
This is the work.
This is the body.
This is the art.
The Work