Like a landfill, the un-locatable element I call my soul is filled with layer upon layer of life-expressed debris. In this image I depict two malformed demons who live in my soul and spend their time stomping down all that collects in my soul. So now you're saying to me, "I did not realize anything gathered in the soul." My response is, "look, I just make this stuff up, that's why my soul is so cluttered." For me, my soul is a huge space and it fills constantly with fragments of thought, dream, vision, whimsy, passion, desire, loathing, rage, joy, wonder, shall I go on? My soul is a dump for everything my mind exhales. This is just me, it does not need to be this way for you. Thanks for reading.
Title of Piece: Tamping Down the Layers of My Soul
2021
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