Artistic Statement

Artistic Statement

Four years back, I wrote a play about a man from a stone age tribe in Eastern Peru. He was an artist. He did wall art in caves. His wife thought he was a magic man. Except the wall art never got them fed. In that sense, art hasn't changed. He got visitors, this artist did. An anthropologist to study him and put his name in a book. A priest to preach him the good news and save his soul. I made the priest a kind of wild man. One day, the anthropologist asked the priest did he ever get depressed. "Depressed? I never get depressed. This to me is like...well, like being back at the beginning. Back before Moses and Abraham. Back when Cain was murdering Abel and all that shit. I consider it a...a fucking privilege being here. Look around you. A whole new batch of souls sliding down the chute. Fresh out of the oven. Untouched, uncorrupted, just waiting for me to lay hands on. It's like...like a window into heaven, man. Makes you wanna cream in your fucking jeans." And that's how I see my role. As a fucking privilege....