Ever since I was left in this padded cell, my mind has been wandering and mingling with the incessant streams of my thoughts. By the very admission of the doctors in charge of guiding me to the path of health, I am a hopeless case with no prospect of remission. This purely subjective sentence thus deprives me of the freedom that every normally constituted man aspires to. Yet I have done nothing wrong. I simply wanted to exteriorise my own personality, my own conception of life. But here I am now in chains, muzzled, supposedly for my own good.
In the eyes of our society, there is an unforgivable crime that gives others the right to remove any substance from a different being, showing originality, exuberance and creativity. Imagination leaves no room for limits, except for the medium used to materialise it. In spite of this tendency to release my own impulses and emotions through writing, music or visual art, and thus carry out my own therapy, I have been judged as a strange and perfectly unsuitable person. What's wrong with living in your own world?
Outside my padded cell, normality seems to be the order of the day and is instinctively diluted in the mass. But what is normality? Is it an erroneous concept that is perpetuated in order to maintain a certain stability? Is it a fear of the unknown, of losing a particularly dull illusory comfort, not allowing any room for collective and individual fulfilment? Yet we are not automatons, created for the simple purpose of repeating the same actions over and over again. Nevertheless, I notice that this well-oiled mechanism seems to be the common lot for many of us.
This dehumanisation, mass-produced, destroys our souls little by little to leave only emptiness in our eyes. I don't want to be one of those who sold their singularity on the hotel of conformism. From my point of view, fantasy is not an escape but a philosophy governing my own life. For a long time, I have been pointed at as a subversive person, out of place and simply abnormal. Although I have suffered particularly badly and felt guilty about it many times, I am happy the way I am. Isn't the human nature of the human being to seek happiness? I don't mind living like an outcast...
In my padded cell, I remain alone in my own bubble. At every moment I discover fantastic worlds, melodious sounds and geometrical shapes that explode in geysers of colour. I am inspired by them and share my creations with my imaginary friends. Have I gone mad? Maybe I am! But nothing will stop me from exercising this creative fever that keeps me alive. No, not even the drugs that are continually injected into me, leaving me in a catatonic state.
My thoughts go beyond what you can imagine. My consciousness gradually detaches itself from my body and acts in total independence. However, a sound attracts my attention. It is the nurses preparing for a surgical operation. They are standing behind my door. They think they can relieve me by performing a lobotomy but in truth they will free me! My dreams are more than ever my reality... My dreams are more than ever my reality... My dreams are more than ever my reality...
Author's notes : I imagine that this short text may have surprised you with its tone and somewhat introspective aspect. But for me it is a metaphorical reflection on my relationship with art in general. My padded cell is an image of my pronounced taste for creation as well as of the frustration of not having had the means to be able to achieve something concrete. This text proves to be very personal, since no one wanted to hear or see what I wanted to express. This lack of understanding of my surroundings has led me to be considered a strange person, not to say crazy, childish and not necessarily very down to earth. In the past, I was the subject of mockery. It was only later, with the discovery of the Punk and Freeparty movement, that I felt, for a while, where I belonged. Even though I've given up all that in favor of a more conventional life, I'm still a bit bitter and I'm particularly sorry about that. Fortunately, I still have writing as a means of expression!
All this to tell you that under no circumstances should you be discouraged. If you have the artistic fiber, don't let anyone dictate your choices. Have a free spirit and let yourself be transported by your dreams. Creativity is a wonderful thing that makes you unique, with an exceptional personality. It is this personality that will spread the taste to reproduce and design works that will inspire many of us.
The visual arts published in this article are the work of Nick Blinko, artist, singer and guitarist of the band Rudimentary Peni.