I used to write how a monster lived in my head. I think even then though, I understood the power of my own thoughts. For this was a monster of self-creation. A monster born from my innermost fears, a monster constructed with my bare mind. And I wrote how the thoughts were crippling, killing me slowly, eating away at me. But the things is — they were mine, all mine. I chose to think them. And my whole life transformed because of them.
I think the day people realize that their life exists in their mind is the day they take responsibility for their thoughts. Not control — for you see, they’ve had that all along. Your mind is the brush with which you paint reality. And for all intents and purposes you could be the next Van Gogh.
Being an artist means forever healing your own wounds and at the same time endlessly exposing them.
— Annette Messager/berlin-artparasites
image: denyon
MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO 
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