Collected Writings
NESO Journeys is a newly-launched travel service specializing in custom travel packages. Capitalizing on their first-hand experience of many international locations, NESO Journeys offers a level of personalized service that is rare in the travel sector. The project required copy for two pages on the company’s website. These provided an overview of the company’s mission… Continue reading NESO Journeys
For the first solo show from artist Zach Wade, I was commissioned by Twelve Thirty Four to write an artist introduction for the show’s entrance, and creative prose to accompany the nine paintings on display. Three treatments of the artist introduction were submitted for the client to choose from. A narrative vignette was written for… Continue reading Movements of the Mind
Fluctuant light; cool grey; washed purple; charcoal. Chipped cobblestones; benches of weathered wood; somber gradients where shadows intersect. They come to worship. They come to contemplate. Contemplation in the dimness. Monolithic blurred washes; cascades from above; their weight, orbiting; they pull at my core; an eight-sided sanctuary; I am the centre.
The ebb of the year, a night lit by lamplight on the glistening cobbled streets of Rye. Beams sag under ancient weight. Creaks and groans that echo through from centuries past. Vapors rise from the glass; sweet smoke. Wind whips at us navigating the churchyard, the stairs, the leaning buildings. Embers, swift as fireflies, fleet… Continue reading In James’s Footsteps
She stood by the window, the outline of her body silhouetted against the deep blue of the night sky and the rippling blanket of the sea. The translucent linen of the curtains pawed softly against her skin. A gentle ghost. The sound of the white wave plumes crashing against the rocks below undulated in his… Continue reading Mezzanotte
Swimming in the pool at night she feels free. Under in the cool pale blue there is no sound. She dives and dives again like a mermaid. She swims below the surface. The light changes. She surfaces and the world has changed. She is alone.
The sun baked down from high above the sand and the air was thick with a dry heat that weighed heavily on the skin, pressing you inwards from all directions.
He woke early each day, walking the streets before the town was awake. This time was his favorite. Alone in the pale pink light of early morning, inhabiting his memories and the empty streets. The overlapping birdsong that filled the air brought back images of his grandparent’s faces.
Landscapes and sounds drive my thoughts eagerly forward. They spill out onto the page in fragments. Laid bare.
One time in the city, a homeless man approached me and a buddy on the street and asked us for some spare change. We’re both sixteen and buzzed on some beers we’d drunk at a bar that didn’t ask for ID. When we don’t have any change for him he tells us he has a… Continue reading Holdup on a High Street