A simple google search using the term: "Wohaw in Two Worlds," will tell you more than you ever wanted to know about what would seem to be a child's drawing. A search I know 0% of the people reading this text will do, but that is neither here nor there. It has become our job as humans to summarize our own reality narrative and share it in a way that others will either understand, or not. But the chance that someone will be impacted by what you say, well that has everything to do with the quality of your message, and how well you've said it.
I am fortunate that Professor Ezra Shales chose to see value in the culture of the Plains Indian. A culture that equally belongs to neither of us, still yet one in which we can both extract meaning. My ability to value this message comes directly through Ezra, and it is my hope, that your understanding comes directly through me.
The nature of my work is meant to have the aesthetic that it does. The meaning of my work is based in a perception of reality I am actively forming, and will be for the duration of my life. The ability for you the viewer, to catch up, is impossible. You will never know the full story of who the #UrbanShaman is or what it feels like to be in his "shoes." But that doesn't mean there isn't any value in me trying to explain, or you trying to understand. It just means that each of us must be patient in the telling and hearing of this story.
"The #UrbanShamn in Two Worlds" depicts how I feel: stuck standing in the middle of a transitioning reality. Much like Wohaw, trapped in-between a clash of two opposing forces. Born into a place not of our own choosing, but incapable of escape, we stand tall. This may be true of all places that one can stand, at all periods of human existence; the answer to which Wohaw and I clearly claim not to know. We simply concede helplessness in an attempt to mediate two unstoppable forces moving in on either side of us.
It is with all our strength, power, and force of will, that we make art, in an attempt to quiet the intense discord in the mind of one reconciling this dilemma. In an attempt to say what we feel, by way of third party medium. When one sees our work and replies, "I don't understand." It isn't for lack of trying, it comes at a loss of words, at an inability to say, do or express in a more comprehensive and comprehendible way. But still we try.
Through time I have done all that I can to share my work, this project, a philosophy, my message. It would seem as if, to myself, I have had to traverse this path starting with low hanging fruit. While nourishing, the taste of this unripe fruit has been bitter. As I climb higher into the tree of life, the fruit that hangs around me is all the more sweet.
Is this because more time has passed allowing the fruit to ripen? Or is the sweetness due to the fact that I have sweat and bled to get so high into the tree? Will the fruit at the top of the tree taste even sweeter? The answer to these questions is irrelevant to me; because just as Wohaw's message has not been lost, neither will mine be.
I will not stop climbing.
See you all from the top.