Let It Go - Nan Lawson
nanlawson.etsy.comOn Anti-Biography Will Alexander
For me, biography is a lantern, burning in the midst of parenthetical opaqueness. In a sense, it is a ruse, a phantasmic meandering, brighter or dimmer, according to the ecletic happenstance of terror.
Me, I've been sired in anomaly, in an imagery of brewing grenadine riddles, a parallel poesis spawned from curious seismographic molten. I say curious, because the original stalking arc has disappeared into the wilderness of an a priori blizzard, which gives birth to a level, like a portal of fire conjoined with the lightning field of mystery. I call it the poetic guardian dove, the hieratic alien wing.
It is the non-local field, the non-particle acid, flowing into my cognitive iodine rays, into the vicious fires of my tarantella marshes. So I dance with vibration, with the solar arc spinning backward around the miraculous force of a double green horizon. Simultaneously, I escape the territorial, while remaining within the burning loops of my own momentary seizures, guarded by ferns, legs plowing land, the face and the mind guided by stars.
So, I am a martyr of drills, of spates of specific lingual flooding, casting at times, a mist or a mirage, like a caravan of yaks, transporting tungsten and water. Conversely, to give a graph of dates, to single out a bevy of personal social lesions, would invert me, would turn me around a diurnal bundle of glass, staggered, with a less than fiery temperature, partially nulling my sensitivity to falling phonemic peppers, to the inclination towards victory which burns in the dawn above heaven. For me, this is the green locale, the pleroma of eternal solar essence, glinting, full of fabulous maelstrom diamonds, an empowered hegira of drift, of claustrophobic rainbow spectrums which empty themselves, and return to themselves, like having an image go out and return to itself, so that it's power transmutes by the very energy of its looping; and I think of myself, the poet sending signals into mystery, and having them return to me with oneiric wings and spirals, so much so, that I forget my prosaic locale with its stultifying anchors, with its familial dotage and image reports, with its dates inscribed in trapezoidal faces. I am only concerned with simultaneity and height, with rays of monomial kindling, guiding the neo-cortex through ravens, into the ecstasy of x-rays and blackness. Even when looking at yourself in a cracked mirror, or through a glass darkly, there you are, your flawed self broken into shards. Everyone of us can run, but we can't hide. What I like about Alexander's prose poem is that it is a reflection of the speaker's inner world. He stands before us, naked, and regardless of any feint he throws at the reader with his anti-biography, he is revealed. We reveal ourselves with every cell of our being, despite our disguises. What is hidden will be revealed. Buried bones always rise to the surface. It's just the nature of things.
As for the artist, yes, I agree. Just let it go, all of it.
Artist Bio:
My name is Nan Lawson. I'm an illustrator/photographer/blogger living and working in the Silverlake neighborhood of Los Angeles. I draw cute and quirky things and characters. I prefer the way I look with glasses as opposed to without. I collect old cameras, and sadly let them collect dust. I love to sing along to the movie Moulin Rouge! in a completely un-ironic way. I'm trying to learn how to play the violin. I'd like to draw something for you.
Check out my "Quit Your Day Job" feature on Etsy's Storque blog: http://www.etsy.com/storque/spotlight/quit-your-day-job-nanlawson-8284/
My work has appeared in several blogs including:
Apartment Therapy, Decor8, Scoutie Girl, Papernstitch, Oh Hello Friend, Down and Out Chic, Green Wedding Shoes, A Beautiful Mess, Daily Candy, Glamour.com
As Well as Print Mags
Crochet Today, Canadian House and Home, ReadyMade Magazine
Here are some links:
http://nanlawson.com
http://nanlawson.society6.com/store
http://twitter.com/nanlawson
http://flickr.com/photos/nanlawson
http://www.facebook.com/nanlawsonart
June 2, 2011. You would think he has one or two shirts, rather than the twenty-plus hanging in his closet. If he wears that blue striped shirt to coffee today, I think I'm going to have to organize an intervention.
June 1, 2011.
May 31, 2011.
May 30, 2011.
May 29, 2011.
Let It Go - Nan Lawson nanlawson.etsy.comOn Anti-Biography 
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