My name is BLOU and I am an artist. For as long as I can remember, I have always been an artist. I just never knew that the penetrating, vulnerable fire within me had a name to it. Beyond my identity as an artist, I am also a musician, engineer, and producer specializing in recorded music. With all these components of my identity integrated, I have the greatest joy and pleasure of being able to shape our culture and the world through music, multimedia art, and experimental film work. I am beyond honored to be able to have a hand in the creative and often collaborative process of crafting music and shaping sounds along with creating multimedia art pieces and installations that seek to impact everyone on every level possible. In every aspect of what I do as an artist, the intent is to ignite transformation and inspiration in order to foster greater change, unconditional love, courage, faith, and healing and action in everyone who comes across anything that my heart and my touch embedded within it.
A shedding of one world ushering in another,
Divorced between new and old,
A severance of halves stitched together whole,
Disjointed notes locked in melody,
Multiple dimensions converging and diverging within intimacy,
Composer’s violence—from dissonance to cons(cious)onance.
To feel a burden and a release,
To being bound by my own captivity and impending freedom,
To be fueled by free will yet held to convention,
Anchored and unchained,
Ignorance and awareness,
Marinating in transition,
An existential savoring.
What is there to do
when a metamorphosis
To bare witness to the magnitude, the audacity as a conscientious observer and accomplice?
It is as if a part of me has taken shelter inside another shielding from the embarrassment, the mourning of its death. Trying desperately to break open the locked chest of pretense, molded memories, forgotten dreams and the stench of impenetrable silence while dying; losing the will to fight.
Releasing her grip from the deed to my life.
Convinced of her protection, of her safety over me she fights to keep from coming undone, peeling completely. But it is a matter that exists beyond expiration, beyond the eviction notice—the burial rites have long been said for, recorded and spoken.
For the transition, the rebirth is looming and unforgiving.
Releasing, letting go, burning that which sought to unstitch and soil the fabrics of my soul.
Reawakening and re-dying; decomposing and reviving—
This is the resurrection of a phoenix.
The redemption of Revelations—liberated sacredness.
For a phoenix to arise, she must
break down what was thought to be
in order to take on new ground, a new molding, a new beauty, a new form.
In the midst of another metamorphosis.
However, this time I welcome it; I’ve longed for it.
To run wild barefoot and bare chest with it,
Sitting in stillness after fighting it,
Praying after defeat with it,
Loving embrace outstretched towards it,
To open up home for furnished with an open heart, receptive ear, sighs of release, courage and forgiveness.
To touch her in the tender spaces where her spirit thrives firmly defended,
Many full moons have lit across the skies and ashes have burned out, withering away.
And here she is rising from the scorching aftermath of her dawning.