The Wonder

In my art I explore the deepest most deceitful parts of humankind, the most horrific and horrendous acts of violence and death, I take in what it means to take another's life and dwell upon why it would drive someone to do such a thing. I'm trying to understand the morally wrong of our kind. Despite it being almost a taboo and unspoken thing, i can't help but in interested in what drives people to these act's, to think what they do and do as they do. I can't help but be interested. Is that weird? Is that wrong in itself? Is curiosity getting the best of me?
I read so much into the wrong, the morally unjust, the evil. And for seeing and being shown just how much there is, makes me wonder how good can win, how right and just can prevail. And no matter what I always come back to the same saying from a movie about war and arms dealing.

"They Say Evil Prevails When Good Men Fail To Act, What They Ought To Say Is, Evil Prevails."

The illness

There is nothing more harrowing, inspiring, thought-provoking & troubling to the modern human than having to face your own mortality. Something that comes about from anything from a little accident or maybe even as fatal as a heart attack for instance. Spending time in hospital, laid in a bed where many before you could have died is a space of contemplation, it's rarely said out loud or discussed easily, but being in that sterile, clinical bed can steer your thoughts on a very 'morbid' path some would say. But you learn your true character when faced with the very real fact that you could be this beds next corpse. Fight, cry, break, shatter, splinter, crack, live. A simple small overnight stay in a hospital bed is enough for anyone to contemplate their demise. As positive a person as you may be, you cannot deny your morbid curiosity to your very own death. We'd all like to have control over our deaths I'm sure, natural feeling for people to be in charge. Death is their grip giving way on the steering wheel of their lives. Not that they ever felt sure of where the road would go, they all know where they want to go and where they'd like to be. But the destination is the same for us all. No matter our direction, speed or even passengers can save us from the final stop on our journeys.
Death doesn't call our names, it doesn't knock on our doors, it waits, it follows us from the very moment we are 'alive', waiting. All it needs to do is step forth and make it's presence known and that's all there is. There is no words death can utter, no sound it could make, no scent it could muster, that can come close to the effectiveness of it's mere presence. It's existence. Death does not need to try, does not need to fight, it need not practice nor rehearse, death is all.