The Peakin

Most medical conditions or illnesses result from impurities in our means of living. Pharmaceuticals are largely designed under the philosophy that they can fix or repair or treat the conditions. But it's deeper than that. It's in our collective unconscious. It's in our evolutionary design. But we can renounce it. We can dig deep to find it. To have faith that it's in there. It defies mathematical and physical science to bring the momentum of it to a halt. To arrest ourselves in our trajectory, launched into and out of this means. Once identified, it becomes increasingly difficult to be honest with it. Especially since the virus continues to modify, recreate itself, to usurp our abilities to further the progress of "humans".

The ironic aspect of humans is that we have learned of evolution and natural selection yet we continue to work harder to avert it. We attempt to save those who are being selected out. We attempt to believe that we are the last stop on the evolutionary chart. We acknowledge that there exists the possibility of evolution passing us over, rendering us obsolete, but we believe or maybe loosely hope or have faith in (which therein lies another irony of science and faith) the ability of humankind to rise above hardship. If I were to place a wager, the odds suggest extinction is statistically inevitable. Over 99% of all species that have ever existed have gone extinct. We're doomed. As a species. It all comes down to fear. We're scared for our kids. Our grandkids. Our yet to be born humankind offspring. We speak of these future generations as though their existence is a forgone conclusion. It may or may not be. And eventually, it's a foregone conclusion that they will become extinct. So we have false hope. The historical record shows us so.

Why bother covering up our impurities? Why patch our health and being like some might patch an object that's long overdue for being discarded? If my car bumper is falling off, I might duct tape it to the body. I might take it to an auto bodyshop. I might do a lot of things.

Visual component:
A pill placed gently. Atop a gorging, exploding stream of the black impurity that lives inside the body, the mind, the very central unit of the being. A gooey goo. And strong. and just gross. and i'm starting to fall asleep.

But however. The painting is a visceral expression of the deep pain I feel on the subject of glossing over the problems with glorified patches of denial and illusion.