anarcadia (triptych i)
digital, 2012
crucifix i
digital, 2012
ram
digital, 2012
goat herd onto loss
digital, 2012
things I have on sale at the moment:
photo 1 + 2 are of my zine ‘devoured by animal-like fear’ which is available here
photo 3 + 4 are of my cd edition for ‘æther: musick for moths’ which can be purchased here
photo 5 + 6 are of high-quality giclee prints of my artwork available on my etsy shop here
also of note is my redbubble account which features a number of shirt designs, you can purchase them here
any reblogs or other forms of sharing are most welcome and are truly appreciated, thank you
the leader of horse (sheds the female breast)
collage, 2012
http://uncertain.bandcamp.com/album/aether-musick-for-moths
physical copies of my last album “æther: musick for moths” are now available alone for $17, whilst the ‘elemental’ edition comes with a 19”x12.5” print available for $23. all of these will be signed and numbered. please share and spread word on it however you would like. thank you.
for deaf wolves
mixed-media sculpture, 2012
Devoured by Animal-like Fear by Florian-Ayala Fauna (24pp Art Zine Limited Edition)
https://www.etsy.com/listing/99838553/devoured-by-animal-like-fear-by-florian
“Devoured by Animal-like Fear” is a black and white art zine containing a select collection of the artist’s work from various years. Pieces include collage work, paintings, photography, and bits of writing here and there. Each copy will be signed and numbered, personalized upon request with stream-of-consciousness writing in black ink. Only a hundred copies have been printed.
household
His body was found beneath the roots of a willow tree. There were no signs of identity or name to him, just an empty face and the remains of a pale frail body. I was there with you when the white fox lead us there, moving around the hedge-mazes in the front of your decadent house.
Though you were unaware, I was listening to the soft whispers of the one who led us there. She told me many details about the man, his death, and what remains of him today. I was told that his death was something like an old weathered house one may find at the edge of a small town.
In that small house located at the edge of the town, I first take notice of stale air and an unnatural sense of a presence holding my hand, desiring closure from me. Many would become unsettled and frightened of this, but I was the one who didn’t turn away from the scene. Instead, I stayed and walked with them hand in hand, looking at the decaying photographs of past lives and the countless notes attached to the walls of the house, asking questions that no one would be able to resolve.
The fox then told me to imagine a secret hallway within the house, hidden behind a book shelf full of diaries and encyclopedias on medicine and nature. Imagine that the ghostly presence is still holding onto your hand was starting to grip harder as you went down the dark hallway, illuminated only by a few candles scattered here and there. There were many more doorways and windows, but I resisted the temptation to stray from the path. Instead I continued down the hallway which was starting to change in scale the more I continued down that path with the one guiding me with their small cold hand, a slight pull telling me to find the end.
I arrive there and discover a broken window, just large enough for me to fit through. I get to the other side and turn around, only to see that the window has disappeared. I no longer feel a grip on my hand as I start to move around the darkness, still doing so with care as another presence starts to fill the room. And then another presence is felt. Before long I’m in a crowd of people that you cannot see. I feel a subtle turning point where everyone in the room starts to take notice of me, and so they reach out with their cold hands and tug and grab at myself. The crowd devours me in time and asks for one thing only: for someone to be buried in the earth beneath the roots of a willow tree.
The fox scatters off into the distance after she told me all this. You look at the face of the deceased man and start to notice drastic changes. I saw them and recognized them too. You became appalled by the scene and abandon the site. I feel my face and start to notice changes in the features, structures, and substructures. During this process I notice a diary in the left breast pocket of his old and tattered coat, and I pick it up to read what it has to say. It begins with “His body was found beneath the roots of a willow tree…”
I now lie in the earth beneath the roots of a willow tree waiting for you to return, with the hope that I may show you the way through the abandoned, small house situated at the edge of the small town and share with you its countless secrets, passageways, rooms, and ever-changing hallways that are illuminated by a few candles scattered here and there.
