1987

Josquin: Missa Pange Lingua - 1. Kyrie.

That was the piece of music I played Paul on what was to be our last night together, although I did not know this important fact at the time. I had been DJ-ing at The Hip Hop club late and it was my birthday. We hadn't seen each other for a while, due to him being a real shit to me weeks earlier. Suddenly his beautiful face was beaming at me over the barrier that separated the punters and the booth. He seemed happy but his eyes betrayed the drugs he was consuming.

Having waited for hours for me to finish, it was only natural we should go back to mine.

In bed, with the Josquin piece playing, candles lit , after sex.

`Want to talk to you` came up from the noise of the room. However it was me that didn't want to talk. He was a strange boy, and thinking it another one of his dreams, I feigned sleepiness , kissing him on the neck, trying to keep myself from falling into another one of his traps.

I can't remember when we both finally slept but it was late. The night still pulsating all around us, I must have dreamt of happier days with this beautiful child, a long way from home.

Needing to be at work on time for once, the best thing was not to rouse him in the morning. I left silently, leaving him a note to meet me that night at Meltdown to keep celebrating my birthday.

That morning, Paul dressed in my clothing, went to work, left work

and threw himself under a train.

1997

Saturday night would be a perfect routine only punctuated by the occasional mishap in preparation, which was meticulous.

Eating light and early, I would climb into bed setting the alarm for 4am. My stomach was all butterflies, my head always excited, now even more so.

However, sleep came.

Awaking to the alarm was never a problem. mostly I would wake before it rang. Jumping out of bed, my stereo was alive.

After showering, it was costume, quick check of everything and downtown in a speeding cab with the windows down.

The Arena was located at the Palladium Nightclub on 14th street. A cavernous theatre, now decked out in new millennium aspirations of monitors, lights, sculpture and shear noise. It was if the whole building was a machine, a music machine. the sound would be dropped, pumped and pushed out of every possible place. You felt disconnected from adult life and back in the playground.

Dealers were conspicuous by wearing a huge X medallion around there necks. girls from New Jersey accepted academy awards from homeless drag queens wearing stolen Gianni Versace clothing. Being in fashion as he was murdered that year.

`Don't have too much, remember Miami ` blurts Donald, my friend as we break the law in one of the many toilets of the club. Later that evening I would hold him up as we chatted to my new boyfriend Terry.

Ketamine is a drug that 20 minutes after snorting you become anesthetized slightly. Everyday things and technology becomes god like and imprinted with DNA feelings of great importance. 

The Arena became a kind of Temple slash Universe. An image of a shark chasing L.L Cool J through an underwater city became prophetic.The lights were looking at you, and the music revealing hidden secrets that only you are receptive too. It was if reality and all its invisible dimensions were revealed.

The down side was a sense of weightlessness burdened by vertigo and being in constant slow motion.

One could be lost in the toilet for hours.

Especially if its mirrored. 

2029

It's late, my house awakes. the Shadow is playing music. Conducting to it, my body is immersed in information. I dance before the image, still warm from dinner.

By the door are clothes with no more use.

Looking out over the city, drinking from the glass, the light dims slightly as another wave of electricity passes above. I no longer notice it.

Enough money to leave the city and live outside.

Still, doubts about my health.

The orchestra has stopped, I have ceased conducting. Looking through the image looped, the audience is now restless, muttering to their partners ` what's going on ` ? 

Embarrassed, coughing continuing my dance all the time feeling absurd.

1971

Gum trees tall and imposing , stood over the street. I was always looking out the back window of the car. Someone new to visit , someone to look at. A mist fills the valley, its cold. 

I guess its my first memory, looking up at the therapist. Following her finger, from side to side. Each time rewarded with a smile. My smile back to her was filled with love and seeking approval  `good boy` she would say. my mother was not within earshot to celebrate my victory.

My parents named me  ` Emperor Hirohito ` as my hair was black and my eyes crossed. 

Antiquity

Untitled paintings and drawings ` Legion Thornleigh `  circa 2001-2003 

Most of these paintings were done whilst I lived in Williamsburg Brooklyn with a Brazilian by the name of Aturo Machado, a photographer, straight and very unaware of his beauty . He spoke to me of deserts in Brazil, deserts that were inhabited by strange cities and people. 

I was new to painting and imagined these `deserts` and the cities that dwelled deep within and fantasied about what life would be lead there. 

Our apartment was the top floor of an old defunct bakery,  the bottom floor was our italian-american landlord and his son. The old store front was being used as a ` club ` for older italian - american men gathered to discuss I don't know what..

They had 2 ferocious and literally rabid dogs that would chase you up the stairs if you were unfortunate to have been caught heading up the stairs at the same time as their `walk` (3 minutes in the backyard to relieve themselves)... it was terrifying and made me feel that our place was indeed an oasis where good food, wine and thoughts were swapped, admist the chaos and absolute noise of Brooklyn. 

Often I would put my music on loud so as not to hear the rabble and make these works, perched on the end of my futon. Splattering paint on the floor and charcoal, but it didn't matter. 

These works are the result.