There is a change coming, and I felt I ought to let you know about it, if you’re still reading this. I say “still”, because over the past year, I’ve been writing here less and less, and I’m told inconsistency is how “readerships” decrease. But I have my reasons. One of them is the fact that I’ve been thinking about my voice here, and how important it is to reflect who I am as closely as possible. It’s difficult to do that with integrity, on a schedule, especially when you’re in a state of flux – and aren’t we all? I often wonder how other bloggers manage expectations when they wake up one day, and realize they don’t really care for make up tutorials and outfit breakdown anymore. Must the show go on?
For a long time now, I’ve thought about my place online, my place in the world, about you and the wonderful, humbling letters of thanks you’ve sent me. I’ve thought about where Biorequiem is headed, whether I’d still be of use to you if I changed, whether I’d get as much work if Biorequiem changed… In all of my ambivalence I barely wrote here at all. It comes down to this: while I love keeping my chronicle, my focus has shifted and it’s time to shift things around here, too. How else could you trust me?
Which brings us to a series of events that finally pushed me to hit the Reset button on just about everything.
On October 10th, I got an opportunity I’ve fantasized about for years: a chance to step back from all the things I do and focus on the one I’ve neglected most. Having drawn my entire life, but lacking the financial security necessary to dedicate all of my time to it, the idea of focusing solely on art has been a goal that’s eluded me for a long time. Savings were spent, projects got in the way, I let new adventures sweep me away – all without giving myself time to do the one thing I have always loved most. And though leaving Coilhouse helped usher me in this direction, I spent the majority of 2012 working on commissions, photography and writing gigs – for all of which I’m beyond grateful, but they got me no closer to my goal. And then, suddenly, in the actual midst of a personal catastrophe (regarding which I hope you will respect my privacy) there it was. My dream, in my hands, all infinite facets and multiple choices. And I jumped.
Today, 75% of my possessions are in a storage unit in LA, and I’m unpacking boxes of books and art supplies about an hour south of San Francisco. This house is surrounded by trees, and I look forward to spending a while here, living simply, thinking thoroughly, reading a lot and working on only two things: my Alien Botany series and The Secret Guide to Alternative Beijing. Feel free to nudge me regarding anything you’re owed via email; orders, Kickstarter rewards and outstanding emails will be addressed in the coming weeks – I hope you will forgive the delay as I arrange myself. I’ve moved away from LA after ten years, from many of my friends and all of my family. Away from a persona that no longer fits. A physical shift on par with my inner one. For me, this is big and I hope to document it here in whatever form is called for, as seldom or as frequently as feels right. In the meantime, have a cup of spiked tea and let’s see what comes. No promises.
Polaroid by Lou O’Bedlam