Barry Alexander McAuslane


Prelude to the next bit-Approximately 20 years ago. This bit has to remain private for now.

Concealed Paragraph 1.

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Maybe that’s the reason why we can’t remember the first year or so of our existence, as we drift off into death from our previous existence, we are faced with the prospect of being born again into the same life as before, tormented or happy.

The next bit-Now, Circa 2021:

I use art as a form of what I call or like to think of brain containment and closure, a form of healing and meditation. I tend to work in a very methodical and long-winded manner, and it can take really quite long periods of time to finalise my work.

On top of the layers of paint I then work into each painting with very fine nib Posca Paint pens, a process I find very meditative and soothing.

The process of making art for me is thoroughly ritualistic driven by my own very observable obsessions. The process for me is about balancing out all aspects of exaggerated human emotions at the extreme end of the scale. As I work through my process, I am trying to establish a link to a higher truth as simplistic as that sounds, a truth that I know is eternally out of reach, unknowable and unattainable.

I suppose the end/completion point for one of my artworks concludes and brings to a head a period of frenzy whereby thoughts rush from one place to another and my brain thinks of multiple artworks almost simultaneously and from this confusion I select an image to work on and complete, a thought that leads to an unscripted place.

In many mays I think it could be argued that by completing the painting actually represents its own death to be forever left an inanimate object, lifeless, still, dead until it is bought, displayed or even destroyed.

With the death of the previous I can then introduce new outcomes and possibilities from the diversity of thought and think of starting again, the usual pre-occupations & self-absorbed qualities that help me become who I am as a person and artist. These pre-occupations and engrossments, I believe are in no way unique to myself or in fact the artistic community and drive humanity as a whole.

The monumental thoughts that have the power to perplex, confuse, bewilder and terrify such as birth, life, madness and death among countless others are present in my work and just occasionally I’d like my brain to take a day off and not think in this way, although I’m sure I’d get bored quite quickly without them.

I’d suggest my art is used as a type of second-hand item, absolutely useless to many, cast off, passed down to me by the syntaxes of the brain, created by accident. I often think I should simply stop and burn everything and only retain the burned ashes of the artworks that have been going ahead of me for some time now.

Maybe I should I simply retire to watch the rain falling of the Japanese trees in my back garden.

The words and wisdom of the 'Open Eyed However Sometimes Wise Lunatic on Entering Before Finally Leaving Downtown Chaos'.