MARE INCOGNITUM: uncharted or unknown seas.

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PARTS UNKNOWN, UNKNOWN FOREVER is part of my most recent series, MARE INCOGNITUM, which I began in 2017. Building on the visual language from my previous series, FLOW, this series dives deeper into exploring the idea of the unknown, and following paths that may seem chaotic where they may lead. It is very directly influenced by my memories of the sea.

This painting was inspired by The Tragically Hip’s song, “700 ft. Ceiling”.

From http://www.hipmuseum.com/ :

“Gord once described the song as the sound of the average Kingston kid looking to kill an average winter night. When there’s nothing to do, you can always head down to the local park and watch the city’s crew flood the makeshift hockey rink. Bathed in the beams of those erect bleacher spotlights, the rink and the breath of those on it can seem contained in a cocoon of  cascading beams. The bright area of the rink ends abruptly where the rays of light begin. Beyond the beams is the pitch black of a bleak and quiet winter sky. This affect creates an artificial ceiling above the lit surface, a low hanging limit, similar to the way low clouds can shrink the horizon and appear to put a roof on the world. When that shining spectacle has become tiresome, there’s always satellite TV, porn, or the option to create that tranquil flooding scene in your own backyard.”

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Let’s go to the park, let’s go watch them flooding

Out there after dark, don’t have to think of nothing

And i love that for, for the way i’m feeling

Seven hundred foot, seven hundred foot ceiling

Let’s take it to the top of the tobacco nation

We can aim the dish for hardcore invitations

And i hate that for, for the things i’m thinking

When the clouds are low, seven hundred and sinking

It’s part hard, hard to remember, it’s part hard to say

Parts unknown, unknown forever and those parts fade away

But leanings toward, toward a full stop’s all i hear you say

One foot on the stump, the other’s on the pulpit

Seven hundred foot, seven hundred foot pulpit

And i love that for, for the way i’m feeling

Seven hundred foot, seven hundred foot ceiling

It’s part hard, hard to remember, it’s part hard to say

In our own backyard, we can do some flooding

Parts unknown, unknown forever, and those parts fade away

When it’s cold and dark, don’t have to think or nothing, don’t have to think or nothing

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