I am WHO.

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I am a person living amongst pixels and binary code.

01101000110101110100101001100who01101001101 0110010011101100111011001101001110110010110 11101001me010111001110011101001110101110101

Who am I? I am WHO. There is a version of me that resides in the real world…somewhere…she has a different name and isn’t the person you expected. She is solid, yet bendy. She pushes back when you apply pressure and it takes a great force to move her. Just ask anyone who has tried it. She is a very nice person, but is not to be stroked. Do NOT poke your fingers in her cage. She has strong, sharp teeth and quite the appetite.

She also has mighty fingers that make things. Interesting things. Beautiful things. Ugly things. Unusual things. You can look at those things. She likes that. Most artists like that sort of thing. We create narcissistic objects that need to be worshipped. That is why we go through the trouble of making them. We could just let them live in our minds, hoarding them and playing with them in private…selfishly allowing them to perish with our bodies, but instead we grant them immortality and generously share them with you.

All ten magical fingers are shared with the other parts of her/me that are living in my own personal world…a place far removed from this reality. It is a place much bigger than I can show, because there just isn’t enough time and there aren’t enough words…yet somehow, there are so many words coming out of a few enormous mouths that are polluting both my world and your world…and they have no purpose and no message to share. The mouths are moving, but I can’t find the corresponding fingers that should be doing something.

I say, “Show me.” But they keep talking and talking and talking and talking with their eyes and ears pasted shut…yet their mouths remain wide open, “blah blah blah…” and the owners of the mouths are so much more brilliant and important that the rest of us…and it’s so fucking loud that nothing they say makes any sense or has any value in the grand scheme of the universe. It makes no impact. Creates no change. Inspires no progress. Their scrambled letters litter the scenery…smothering life.

Where are the facts to back up the arguments? They are hidden in between thousands and thousands of lies. They are on the bumper stickers on the back of the station wagons. They are written in the veins in my poor aching eyes. They are only seen with a magnifying glass or a telescope.

Facts are insignificant to cattle and the swine, but I am a burrowing creature. I dwell in a cluttered heap of facts and am stockpiling string cheese. I am preparing for war, famine and drought. I am hiding in the chaos, next to Waldo. Can you find me?

I am the mystery that is eluding me and arousing my curiosity.

Jen's Fine Art / Printmaking

Click on "View My: Pics" at top to view more of my ART. There is more artwork and photography scattered throughout my blog as well. There are at least five pages. Feel free to post comments there.

Jen's Illustrations

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