To begin is all.
With everything happening for her, the artist despairs at the dislogation of unifying elements. All paths lead to dispersion.
Spurning opportunities for a horological allocation of gainful employment; Cullinan focussed entirely on the disemination of items of a personal and utilitarian adornment, both ‘snip(e)ing’ and ‘pil(l)ing’ to an end result of great internally reactive satisfaction.
To form phrenomological activity in excess has become to Cullinan a source of unified pleasure and pain. Accumulating in it’s wake a plethora of synaptic responses which may, or may not lead to metaphysical self annihilation.
Resistance is useless.
Once again, Cullinan deplores her perpetual inability to perform in the arena of widely recognised accomplishment. What was once a weekly hiatus, now obliterates the life blood of creation on a heightened platform of acceleration.
Doomed to perpetual handmaidenhood, the artist questions whether this will be a once and for all indefinate definition of self.
It is both tormentor and muse, in which truth, the intimate association of close proximity brings at climax only loss. Humour relates a bitter truth again.
On a practical agenda, options are limited: Continuation on the path leading to self obliteration? Forge a DIY mindset and risk anihilation of a different breed? Or seal onself into closeted hermititude? Here, closet claustrophobia pervades.
