Look At Me

A Seven-Piece Body of Work
Composed through 2016 into 2017

WILL THEY LOOK AT ME?
Will they see what I have to offer? And will they be pleased with it all? Watch my movements and catch my glance. I want to be on display for the world. I want to be the center of your attention. What you see will be infectious. My disease will penetrate into your skin. Become enamored by my skill and marvel at its splendor. Get lost in my maze and let me hold you spellbound. Fall in love with my person and be mesmerized by these talents. Like the rays of the sun my reach will be boundless. This pull with have you orbiting my inescapable star.

Colored pencil on bristol | 24 inches x 40 inches | Gravity. The force of agony through which we hope to enamor them. The magnetic pull we emit on those watching. It’s the hope that their eyes might fall on us. It’s the cry that becomes physical. The desire that can no longer be contained. True gravity is irresistible to those affected. No one can escape its grasp. And we hope our gravity will be the same. But there’s no guarantee. Our gravity is not absolute. But we wish it were. Our gravity is finite according to our own power though we desire it not to be. If we were truly gravity, our force would be perfect. There would be no alternative, there would be no volition. But our gravity is subject to the frailty of the human. We try, we push, we work endlessly on this force yet there is always something lacking. But this will never stop us. Our gravity is engineered by the drive within us. It is the drive to get their attention. It is the ache to pull them in. It is the emotional pulling that becomes physical. Please, fall into us. Be subdued by our force swirling around you. Rush over us with abandon. Buy what we sell. Want what we have to offer. Please be swept up. Please shoot a glance. I beg you. Look At Me.

Gravity | Colored pencil on Bristol | 24 inches x 40 inches | 2016

Colored pencil on bristol | 24 inches x 38 inches | Infection. The desire we wish to contract. The virus we're planning to spread. There's something diabolical in our desire for you to see us. There's something a bit mad. Something like that of the mad scientist, sitting in his lab and trying to engineer the perfect virus. We hope to be contagious. We hope to be running rampant. We hope to be the next epidemic that no one can escape. And this might make us severe, but that is exactly what we're hoping to be. There's something sinister in our desire for you to see us. Something that makes us craft ourselves in a new way. In a way that refuses vaccines. A way that will not accept treatment. Once you catch us we hope you'll never be able to let go. We want to be unforgettable. We want to be irresistible. But our contagion is only so much. All diseases can be treated. Our infection will never be perfect but this only drives us further in our concoction. We may never become truly irresistible but we will never cease striving to be. This infection may not swamp you. It may not encumber you to the point of no return. But surely you won't forget it. A disease like this may be healed but its memory will never fade. Be contaminated by us. Let us swim through your veins. Let your life be consumed by our flu and let it grip you for a time. But once it's gone, once you are healed, try to forget us. Try to forget the sickness that once was. The sickness that ravaged you. The sickness that plagued you. Try to unbind your thoughts from what seemed impossible to beat. You may overcome our infection. You may find a cure by some means. But the memory of us will never be forgotten. We want you to notice us. We want you to look at us. And we want you to never forget what you saw. You may look at us. You may look away. But may the vision of what you saw last with you for eternity. Be infected. Look At Me.

Infection | Colored pencil on Bristol | 24 inches x 38 inches | 2016

Colored pencil on bristol | 24 inches x 36 inches | Sunlight. Bask in my rays. Be illuminated by my image. No one is free from the beams of light coming from that solitary object. And that's how we hope our person will also be. Feel my impulse wash over your skin and see your world brighten from my visage. Even the clouds can't stop the sunlight from filtering through. No force against me will stop me from reaching you. Just as every blade of grass is lit up by one single, radiating star, so too will one swoop of my person be irresistible to the masses. All nearby and far beyond will be captured by my rays. Nothing is left unbrightened. My influence will reach to all around me. Let it wash over you. Let it fill you. Let it dance upon your skin. Let each beam of light radiate all of your features and understand my direction. Just like the light of day, my beams will lead. Like a compass the path is illuminated. I will set the precedents. I will start the tide of new ideas. I will become the fixture on the lamp stand shinging brightly for all to see, exposing boldly before a world entangled. May the light lead the way. May my iridescence wash it all with passion. And yet night forever falls. Yet my energy is not infinite. With power the sun shines forever but that thinking is faulty. That massive star will burn out and undoubtedly so will mine. But we wish it were infinite. We wish our rays could never cease and we continue as such. Yet night forever falls. The sun always obeys the unstoppable cycle of nightfall and nothing can stop this subjugation. Our light too must sleep. Our vision cannot radiate in constant. The day always falls into night and there is never any stopping it. But that will not stop our shining. Our light will never cease to forge ahead. Because we wish our sunlight was perfect. We wish our beams shone beyond what time allows. We want our sunlight to capture everything in its wake and we will continue to pursue it even doubting the result. May our brightness turn your heads. May it play with your skin and create vision for the future. You may have to shield your eyes but may this sight be too hard to look away from. May we be the focal point of your solar system. May we capture your person with our glowing radiance. Glow from my shimmer. Simmer with my warmth.

Sunlight | Colored pencil on Bristol | 24 inches x 36 inches | 2016

Colored pencil on bristol | 24 inches x 38 inches | Hypnosis. Get lost in my trance. Be mesmerized by my swirl. Let your limbs grow weak and your eyes heavy. Let yourself be totally immersed by the power of my being. I want to hypnotize you. I want to capture those who watch me in my spell. Like the sinister witch doctor I want to concoct myself into an unavoidable potion. Just one drop will have them forever in my grasp. There is something truly bewitching in my desire for you to see me. There is something magical about my pull. I want my ways to toy with their minds and twinkle in their hearts. Let my presentation seem truly unimaginable. Enter into my maze and find yourselves lost here forever. Yet even the most dastardly spells have their ways of being broken. Even the greatest magicians have tricks within human power. But this will not stop me from casting an even deeper trance over you. I will still strive for something more immersive. Be hypnotized by what I have to offer. Even if my spell will eventually fade away. Whatever you do, don't turn away. If nothing else, Look At Me.

Hypnosis | Colored pencil on Bristol | 24 inches x 38 inches | 2017

WILL THEY LOOK AT ME?
My powers are limited to my human vessel. And yet this only makes me want your attention more. My gravity is not infinite but I will pull with all my might. My disease is not incurable but I will push harder to increase its potency. Let me put it all out for you, and latch on with everything you have. Turn your heads and become infatuated with this display. Here I am, before you all. I will make you turn your heads. I will be truly irresistible. Please, I beg you. Look At Me.

Colored pencil on mixed media paper | 21 inches x 36 inches | There they are. Looking. Their gazes don't move. I know what they want. Their hate. It's stupid. Quit those thoughts. Quit with those eyes. They like destruction. They want it. It tears. It rips. It breaks through. Their eyes--they're only windows into the minds of the accusers. Waiting for a fall. Waiting for one mistake. It's critical, abusive, laser-like. Don't they understand? Don't they see how they kill with their eyes. They're judging me. They hate me. They're counting every inch. They think it's some kind of joke. They chew and bite into me. Every glance searches for the holes. You just want me to die. It's not good. They don't like it. What do they want from me? What are you waiting for? I die in their sight. Those eyes won't stop firing at me. It's deceit and hatred. They analyze me and analyze me--I can't take it anymore.

They called him Nero...he was neurotic | Colored pencil on Mixed Media Paper | 21 inches x 36 inches | 2016

Colored pencil on mixed media paper | 21 inches x 36 inches | There's a quiet frustration in the way I see them. There's a quiet frustration as they see me. They look but they don't get it. I'm tired of their stare. It's like they won't go away. Are they taking stock? Do you really need to continue being here? Please, go away. Because there's a quiet frustration I have with you. There's a quiet frustration I have with every glance. Leave me alone, is it so hard to ask. Go. There's a quiet frustration in the way they think of me. There's a quiet frustration in their messed up view. Because their perception is wrong. They don't understand. And there's a quiet frustration in knowing that fact. There's a quiet frustration knowing how poorly they know me. There's a quiet frustration because they don't understand. Just keep looking; you still won't get it. And you never do. And you never will. And that's why there's this quiet frustration I have with you and your complete misconceptions. It's irritating. It's annoying. It builds a frustration I can't even describe. They look and it's fine but what? Are you just counting my differences? Are you wasting your time not realizing anything right? And there's this quiet frustration that follows with this. There's this quiet frustration I simply can't shake as they continue to look at me and keep failing to understand. You don't get my motivations. You don't see my intent. So instead you go on your own whims assuming you have the idea while instead your inaccuracy merely serves to fuel this quiet frustration inside of me. And this is why there's a quiet frustration lingering at all. You're fools who don't see it--and barely fools at that. I have no words to call you because I simply can't find any beyond this irritation you cause me. And that's something I can't deny. You see this quiet frustartion I'm dealing with steals my own view of you away. This quiet frustration is now all that exists between us. And that's all I can see. All you do is view me and wrongly and I can't stand it much longer. Because this quiet frustration is all I have to go on. It's this insatiable irritation you caused me that drives me mad. Get out of my sight. I'm done with you. There's a quiet frustration in the way they see me. And there's a quiet frustration in the way I see them. What? I get it, now stop. You need to go away. Because there's a quiet frustration I'm not letting on. There's a quiet frustration that's consumed me. There's a quiet frustration and it's growing. Don't Look At Me.

There's a Quiet Frustration... | Colored pencil on Mixed Media Paper | 21 inches x 36 inches | 2016

Colored pencil on mixed media paper | 21 inches x 36 inches | It is the creature in the mirror. It is the image on display. It's the abomination we seek to hide. Look away from this creature most awful, this creation most ghastly. Figurehood becomes a privilege to us rather than a compulsion of nature. It is in our own world where deformity reigns supreme. And the catalyst is perception itself. Don't let yourselves be tormented by this view for too long. It is the frightening of the night. We become our own monsters living under our own beds. Hide the face, shield the eye from the deformity we don't understand. Every new look in the mirror uncovers another distortion. Look away. There is a monster without. And this monster is too vicious for the likes of those around. When they look I know they see it. Whey they blink it's only a split moment of relief. They see the creature, they look upon the hideousness. And this is why they stare. This is why they try to look. This image is something of a spectacle to behold. The circus comes to you now. Stop looking at me. Because this view is most distasteful and your eyes only make it that much worse. Every eye-shot further degrades the beast. Every glance further deforms this atrocity. Every person is another weapon against this terrible being. Every word under-breath is just another beating to ravage this ugly visage. Look away before my skin erupts. Look away before the beast becomes as hideous as evil itself. Stop. Please. Don't Look At Me.

The Monster Without | Colored pencil on Mixed Media Paper | 21 inches x 36 inches | 2016

Look At Me

Copyright Chrilz 2025