"From You To Me"

For Part 1 of my Fictionary collection, titled "From You To Me" I collaborated with writer Chris Jackson, drawing my images from his narrative. The writing that inspired each piece can be viewed to the right of each image.



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Dani Crosby, Jay Dart, Larry Eisenstein, and Christophe Jordache

at The Station Gallery, July 21-September 2, 2012.

"Fictionary aligns with non-ordinary forms of consciousness such as trance, humour, meditation and dreams. Few straight lines appear in this free-handed and open-ended show. Here’s a site where exuberance reigns supreme!" - Olexander Wlasenko, Curator, Station Gallery 






"no space is truly empty. What exists in between the more obvious structures of natural design? these are the questions that spark exploration.  these explorations stoke the mind, and fire the body towards eternal curiousity. possibilities that may come to pass in these yet to be determined regions are responsive to the guidance of most any entity, ethereal or otherwise."  



"perfection is a ruse. one may have elements of perfection, but these elements require imperfect components to balance their ability to be perceived. what is perfect for one may not be for the other, and as such is imperfect. zero requires one to give it any meaning. the elements of nature may seem perfect in their realization, but again; they require chaos to have achieved beauty."  



"even the simplest acts are of the utmost significance. the transfer of energy between entities, conscious or otherwise, allows for progress.  and what of progress? tiny elements group together to form larger structures.  these in turn form more specialized structures that have a tendency to band together. all structures are capable of much more than the sum of their parts." 




"the struggle for perfection requires sanctuary. the transference of energy from one to another can be taxing, no matter what form it takes. it is the habit of any entity enacting even the smallest amount of alteration to seek rejuvenation. there are specialized circumstances required to allow this to happen, though the possibilities are far and wide. it is therefore a necessity to attempt creation and management of these circumstances."  

the self


"assumption is the mother of all suffering. perception itself requires a vessel for exploring and explaining experience, no matter of its form. why one and not the other? even choices of insignificance require a significant amount of presupposition. the perfection of structure is inherently weakened by the manner of its creation. the structure of perfection is inherently strengthened by the balance required for its perception. "  



"fear is the hypnotic bedfellow of hope.  in a vast expanse, the unknown surely terrorizes.  in creating the edges of balance chaos must be present.  as total perfection is unattainable [and quite boring, frankly] so to is total chaos.  protection of one requires protection of two, one cannot exist without the other. the balance of sanctuary is a structure that all must partake in the creation and maintenance of." 



"while one is a singular number, so is 644,723. to create a structure with just one in mind would conflict with the principles of balance [and frankly, would be quite boring]. The structure would be neither chaotic nor perfect; it would have no other force to transfer energy against. the structure would crumble before it could even be conceived. there would be simply too much space; neither full nor empty. it would be perfect chaos." 



"language cannot give form to structure; the point at which the outer edges of chaos and perfection meet is where beauty may take hold. the eternal wilderness of physical law ensures that balance must be the protagonist of perception.  the space between structures is necessary for the transmission of energy. it is the lifeblood of curiosity, it is the area in which one is allowed to separate from its neighbors, zero and two. otherwise there would be no definition, only solid masses of equally organized or equally disorganized material."   



"true failures are mistakes oft repeated.  what is the opposite of space? the guiding principles of balance allow for chaos, for it is through chaos that beauty may be achieved. to celebrate the ideals of a perfect structure is to make inroads towards its creation.  a given entity guarantees its own existence through the very same actions of its diametric. those in proximity glean similar knowledge from such an experience."

Fictionary "From Me To You" 

For Part 2 of my Fictionary collection, titled "From Me ToYou" I collaborated with writer Chris Jackson, who drew his written work from 2 images I created and presented to him. A sample of the writing that was inspired by each piece can be viewed below each image.



"life in the haunted castle is wrought with difficulty. its thick stone walls and mossy floors convey a sense of heaviness, of a weighted seriousness. these environs propel those who dwell within to extreme lengths, of complex plans and envisioned escape.


there is no easy way out. theres no easy way in either, for those outside who may seek to conduct a search and rescue operation. the ghastly fumes of mentality brought on by millennia of backward thinking are unpleasent, wrinkled noses rising to greet the notorious odour.   


emulsified in the soulless remnants of those passed, walking through concrete might seem easier.


but what is escape? where is there to escape to? men and women who foolishly try to bend the unyielding components of the world around them often fail. it is not that their spirit is undeniable, it is that their goal may simply not be possible.  


alchemists tried for many moons to change dirt into gold through artificial means. phrenology too, was a fools errand. a profession created by priveleged white men with far too much time and prejudice on their hands.


no, a person must make himself at home in the haunted castle. instead of wandering around by candlelight through endlessly quiet corridors, he must take the time to give each dim corner the attention and care that is needed in order to shape the environs that he controls to his liking.  


others too, must be able at the very least to pass through safely.  


it may appear to visitors curious about the scary looking castle on the hill that there is madness emanating from its windows and doors. but madness, like everything, is relative to those who perceive it from different angles.


the haunted castle isn't really haunted. not if you drive the ghosts away, clean up the cobwebs, and clear out the frankenstein machines. give the zombies a well-cooked meal and some new socks. 


anything can be frightening until you choose to try and understand it."

"and lo, the seas parted!  revealing to the mortal realm the great bastions of eternal conflict.  between the heavens and the earth below, torrid swarms of energy storms fizzled and frizzled near everything in sight. those bearing witness to the frenzy recoiled in fear.


erupting from a formerly obsequent state, these mighty combatants of decency implored victory from one another, efforts only quelled when approached by their opposite.  towering above the now exposed sea-floor, the sheer weight of it all caused cracks to drive towards their realizable form. the air bristled with an indescribable hum.  


a man with a large hat took bets from onlookers with binoculars. their shore was distant, but not altogether unreachable.  further afield from their location, another group of people gathered around another man with a large hat, taking bets on whether or not the first group would be engulfed by the battle.


it was a time of confusion.


after a thousand years of violence, these perfectly balanced enemies grew weary of one anothers constant presence, embitterned by lack of sleep and the constant accuity of their collective senses. they were later heard to muse;


``Only the great abacus of Cranmer never tires!``


this was at a celebration in honour of the recent cessation of the destructive activities, given by those onlookers most distant.


and thence began a time of durable peace.  no more tumultuous blood storms and flash-bomb nightmares.  instead, these practiced hands parted ways after eons of furious dance to stride slowly through the forest for the rest of time. there would be ample foodstuffs and visual stimulation.


the wildlife reacted with a relative ambivalence.   


where once the sea had been, so it returned. slowly and slyly covering up the fissures in the bedrock.  putting rest to the dust stirred up by the footwork of the decadent gladiators. all manner of marine life returned, and over time the natural forces restored the balance of the ecosystem.  


the most important addition to the reformed underwater cycle was a large Atlantic Sea Bass who posessed a very deep, and very far-reaching voice.  he would begin each day by addressing, and very quietly mind you, the entire population of the world on which he swam.  he would whisper things like:


"Have a wonderful day today!"




"Oh, make sure you dont stub your toe!"


some listened, and some chose not to.


all the way on the other side of the world, the two travellers began to overhear these daily announcements. their lives of suffering forbade them to make light acknowledgement of the positive greetings.  the duo developed a plan.


they attacked the fish who did not protest. they devoured him at a very nice french restaurant on rue lagrange, south of the seine river. they wrote several books about their experiences and buried them in the desert.


the men with large hats were pleased. but eventually, their hats grew so big that they could no longer walk freely."

Fictionary "All Together Now" 

For Part 3 of my Fictionary collection, titled "All Together Now" I presented gallery visitors with a grid of named characters and a blank booklet. Pariticpants were invited into a red curtained booth to begin a story involving 1-3 of the characters from the grid. Each concecutive participant had to continue the story from the point it left off, each time involving 1-3 new characters.