The Creative Voice of DJE Fine Art's Newest Artist

Allegories Of An Intimacy And My Sleeplessness

by Alexander Percy

Melancholies come to me to turn them into passion. Color sensitizes my system. The spatula is my sword, my shield is the color and my inspiration is you. The night becomes my day, and the day is my torture. It is my ritual…my religion. In this city where there’s no sky, and what has not turned grey yet, will be soon, I battle. I work color, light and awareness. I feel free. Nature, religion, love, sex and life dominate my synthesis. With this body of work, I toy with human psyches, with reference to the imagery’s invocation, captured through lived life. The spectator’s past experiences confront the colors in each piece and interact on a very personal plane. The titles of the work create an uncertainty, leaving outsiders wanting to know more, questioning their own senses while transforming the work into a representative image of their existentialism.

Experimenting with metaphorical bohemian intimacy, I reveal myself to my muse. I become an ally of her sentence, protector of her emotions. I become reason for her feelings and companion of her pleasures. In one form or another, she dominates my aura. Images come and colors go to a place that becomes smaller as time passes, thoughts of color, meditated color. I am heard by my surroundings, we become one in each encounter. I analyze myself and become consciousness. On a stony route, I walk barefoot. I sacrifice my dawn to create my allegories, my nocturnal world, my strange destiny, but I am appreciating my legacy. Knowing the matter, I self medicate, thinking of my fears as my days become smoke and my nights a glorification. A burial silence watches me and lets me see my inner child, which loves you, lets you sleep, protects and kisses you. You travel inside of me every night like indomitable beast, filling the empty spaces of my core and helping me exist in an uncertain world, full of theories. 

At night, I hallucinate your presence. Letting me live the dream of having you, I die. In my nocturnal ritual, I belong to you. We become one and while the night leaves me, you stay with me. I ask myself, why does this angel cling to me?  Why does she love me? Why does she illuminate me? Out of breath when thinking about you, my fears disappear when I feel you close; your voice makes me smile and your air gives me life. In this passion where time passes and I don’t feel the ticking of the clock, where I am victim of time and

traitor of my rest, at the moment when my muse sleeps, I keep myself awake

in her honor and I give her my other self.

What is the Responsibility of Today's Artist and the Artwork Created?

I've been repressing an issue regarding the artists creating today and the work they create.  I've always been a firm believer in the concept that when someone dedicates themselves heart and soul to a creative endeavor, then the work's significance becomes inextricably linked to this pure and genuine sacrifice.  Too often, my friends, art world aficionados and especially critics dismiss such artistic creations as narcissistic self-absorption - Abstract Expressionism ended years ago, my friends exclaim, and true, quality art must present depth, complexity and a finely-tuned awareness  of the human experience.  Internal, personal struggles and an overwhelming sense of self-loathing have no place in art being created today.

Although I tend to agree with such critical analysis, I cannot forget the power and intensity of artworks created from the depths of the trouble subconscious, both in painting and poetry.  The greatest works of Robert Lowell, Anne Sexton, Frank O'Hara and, of course, Sylvia Plath, were crafted, in part at least, by their inner demons.

And this brings me where exactly?  I'd really like to know.              

New Art in a New Year - The Rebirth of Creativity

Too all artists, art lovers, art historians and anyone reading this post - I want to wish you all a healthy, happy and creative new year.  With these wishes of good spirit, comes the question where is art at now and where is it going?  Can anything original be created?  Or has it all been done before?  Trite, I know, but to many people I know, both art lovers and art haters,  the facts seem to point in one direction - the demise of creativity.

I, however, am of the belief that creativity is not dead; that there is still untapped originality in many of us.  But it takes time, hard work, dedication and strength - strength to believe in ourselves, strength to overcome our own fears and feelings of inadequacy and strength to confront those who will stand in our way because of their own insecurities.

Genuine creativity is a gift that cannot be feared as it will be wasted.  And right now, we need all the force and power and pain that truly creative art produces.  I'm tired of leaving galleries feeling, well, tired.  I want to walk out feeling elated or angry, excited or terrified.  Honestly, I just want to FEEL.

And when I do, and I know I will, I'll tell the world that creativity is alive and well.