is a series that I began working on in the summer of '21. The subconscious has always been an interest of mine, and through automation, I began creating what I call 'mindscapes'. I like to look at my brain as a home. *Now you are standing on the welcome mat outside my front door*
Note on merch items:
All are limited stock and edition, I like art objects, I like things that aren't made to be consumed until the end of time. 2 shirts, 10 lighters... get it? got it? good.
I only make things I understand.
Well, not understand.
But, know I stand with
I painted bodies,
Because I had an eating disorder.
One time I was painting a ‘nasty’ woman.
I had a panic attack,
I thought I was painting myself.
Made me scared.
I was so angry.
That series almost killed me,
I was so angry.
I was so terrified.
My dysmorphic sense of self,
Always painting problems.
Do I ever tire?
I have the endurance for anxiety.
When I looked in the mirror,
“Is that what I really look like?”
“No Cortney, you just have body dysmorphia”
I painted spaces,
Because I know what it is like to be trapped
In my own 'home'.
*Death peering in through the window*
I found myself
Standing on the edge of the fire escape.
The eyes are the window to the soul,
That must be why the room is flooding.
Fucking Zoloft won’t let me open the dam.
I do like plants.
A friend said I needed another hobby
What did I like?
I like animals-
Fuck Cortney, you live in the city
I like the sun-
Forget about it
*Seasonal Depression peers through the window*
Let's try a plant
No… I tried it on that hot day,
I killed it shortly after,
I claimed I didn’t pot it correctly,
“It became hydrophobic”.
Letting it die slowly.
I got the power back.
I painted swirling words
Because they come and go.
I have a memory like a fish.
I painted a woman pregnant with two separate bumps.
Because right as I was about to pop,
I got my head cut off.
The crowd gets off,
To see the death of a woman.
It’s easy to feel depressed
Sometimes I wake up
Then I look in the mirror
Or stub my toe running to get some coffee
Then I immediately get all pissy and quiet
I fucking hate when I am pissy and quiet.
I painted a skin cube
As a raft
In the middle of the ocean
Because I felt like I was in a purgatory
Do I dive into the abyss?
See what happens?
This body is failing me anyway.
I paint my wound because
My own blood is ostracized, mystified, fetishized.
Welcome to the home that is my mind.
Please take your shoes off at the door…
I’m kind of neurotic these days.