Caffeine High

There you are, after your fifth black coffee, feeling high & well, seriously on edge, exactly how you like it, looking at another cup standing on the coffee table in your room.

You're unsure what you're thinking about when you snap out of it and realize you don't own a coffee table. You like to live that way, lean, nothing that isn't strictly necessary.

Afraid that this is it -- you're finally losing your mind, you look outside the window and notice another room, which is mostly empty, with only a lamp, a carpet, and, of course, another window.

Nice, minimal, exactly how you like it, which calms you down enough to look back. When you do, you notice a door, which you decide to inch towards to try and reach the tableless room, but the door doesn't feel like opening right now. 

So with nothing else to do, you continue losing your mind, going in loops in your mind, again and again about how you're losing it, until finally:

You stand up from the couch in a tableless room, exclaiming: 'And that's why I stopped drinking coffee,' which you did after just starting again four weeks ago.

It seems like the whole thing was just in your mind; perhaps it was a daydream, whatever that means. For some reason, you're scared that if you had continued drinking too much coffee, you'd lose your mind, which is ridiculous, primarily because -- I think you already have.

Lazybones

Looking up from the floor is a mesmerizing perspective. You get to witness this part of the room that you frequently see but rarely pay attention to.

The otherwise unappealing sight has recently become a big part of my entertainment. Once in a while, I lay there for half an hour or so, often at least once a day.

And I could not tell you what I did while laying there -- though, of course, I know because there isn't anything to do.

I've become the laziest person on earth, hopefully having my recent medication to blame. Because the alternative is something I don't think I can accept currently.

Even making my art is something I have to force myself to do, but maybe this has always been more true than I'd like to think now.

At least I'm a little less anxious, and social interactions are less dreadful.

Slave to impulses

Whenever I've got any semblance of a good idea, which often is just something to complain about, I've got a tendency to express it multiple times in a short period. 

So, this is just another piece complaining about being hungry but then disguised by something more abstract to not bore you or me with a stale story (and to appear more intelligent).

Impulses drive everything you've ever done and ever will do. Which I don't think is much of a problem most of the time, but some of those impulses will be for things you know you shouldn't do. 

You may give in, suffering the consequences you knew would exist, then later complain about those, or you can, and will often, not.

Maybe you'll try very hard never to submit, you'll get none of the drawbacks and none of the dopamine, and now you're bored; is this even a life worth living?

And once again, you'll go back to a hedonistic lifestyle that'll at least keep you entertained while you're capable of it: this is happiness.

Even Sober Months Disappear

I'm sure that humans invented language in part so that they could better complain about time going fast. 

So here's the obvious: somehow, it feels like, at least when looking back, every couple of seconds, a day passes. 

Habits are something my brain likes. When I was using drugs, this also quickly became a habit. While it was, time evaporated, and I spent much of it on useless dopamine machines.

In hopes of slowing down time, in part by spending it better, I decided to get sober. 

And now, even sober, spending my time better, months are disappearing.

Another Lonely New Year

It's almost 12. I look outside and see groups of people coming from their apartments. Out of nowhere, I feel lonely. 

The feeling wasn't wrong; I had been alone all day, if not all week, but I usually don't feel like it.

Seeing those people reminded me of the parties I had been to in the past -- which I mostly hated going to. I didn't go to many.

People who like parties are faking it. At least, I can't understand it, other than it being an excuse for getting high (which, when I still got high, I had no trouble doing on my own).

I think I feel lonely, not because I'm not around people, but because I don't want to be.

Sober In A Smoke Filled Room

An ex-colleague came to the Netherlands for a concert, and we met for a few hours. He's a nice guy, except for his nasty habit of always having an excuse for not making art, which drives me crazy. 

Even though it frustrates me, I do get it. To get anything done, I have to be slightly obsessed. Similarly, for me, it's impossible to use drugs only once in a while.

My friend wanted to smoke weed, which you can do at a coffeeshop in the Netherlands. Weed used to be a daily habit of mine, which I had wanted to quit probably as soon as it became one. 

So I was reluctant as I hadn't been to a coffeeshop since getting sober. And I knew I wasn't ready to smoke without likely quickly falling back into a habit. 

But I believed I was ready not to get tempted (and I begged my friend to give me nothing if I asked). Honestly, due to recent anxiety, even thinking of smoking makes me nervous, so it wasn't difficult.

That's what this painting captures: anxiously, though unrelated to the setting, sitting in a coffeeshop for the first time since becoming sober, next to my friend who's probably explaining for the fifth time why he can't just paint.

Stoned Party

I used to get stoned a lot. Nowadays, I'm sober, but I doubt I'm completely over it yet. Regardless, I don't go to many parties, and the ones I did go to, naturally, I would get stoned at. 

Parties are just an excuse for people to get high on whatever substances,  feeling like they're not addicted because they only do so when at parties.

Part of the reason I don't see a reason to go to parties is that I'm not sure if there's any benefit to getting high with people around you over getting high alone.

So, I would choose to get high on my own. I can only imagine that other people get something from the social interactions that I don't. Or maybe it exclusively is that they don't want to feel bad about their drug habits.

But this painting isn't about any of that at all. It's just that Moai reminded me of being at some of those parties. Man, I love Moai. They convey such emotion I can look at them for ages.

The Addict

Being addicted is nice. I like being addicted. It makes life easier. Instead of constantly working to do something meaningful, I can relax and waste my time.

At the end of the day or week, I think about where all my time went. I'll realize that I wasted so much time again and think: "I should spend less time doing these useless things. So I can focus on what makes me happy".

Then, the next time I can spend my time better, I'll choose not to because I prefer not to work to do something significant. No, what makes me happy is to waste my time.

Explore Zen Dageraad's depiction of transformation with a pink butterfly amidst a vivid backdrop, capturing the essence of change & constancy.

Sobriety

In Zen Dageraad's evocative creation, a vivid pink butterfly takes center stage, contrasting beautifully with its background that transitions from a warm orange at the top to a serene green-blue below. The segmented shades used within both the butterfly and the backdrop lend depth and dimension, drawing viewers into the story behind the piece. Zen Dageraad reveals his journey of personal transition and self-discovery, reminiscent of the transformative phases of a caterpillar to a butterfly. After quitting a daily habit of smoking weed, the artist experienced a paradox: a significant change externally, yet feeling internally unchanged. This nuanced duality is captured with the butterfly, suggesting that while we may undergo profound transformations, our core essence remains intact.

Experience the mystique of Zen Dageraad's artwork, where a serene bike path unfolds tales of psychedelic explorations and a journey towards the unknown.







Distant Figure

Embark on a visual journey along a mystical bike path depicted in Zen Dageraad's evocative art piece. This work immerses the observer in a serene yet eerie pathway located behind the Jeroen Bosch hospital in Den Bosch, as traversed by the artist frequently. The scenery, imbued with the spectral resonance of a past psychedelic adventure, unveils a distant figure marching towards a blue realm, embodying the haunting allure of the unknown. The narrative is enriched with a whimsical poem, a tribute to the path's natural psychedelic aura even in the absence of truffles, alluding to a memorable day of curious exploration turned awry.

The meticulous design employs a myriad of shades and shapes to engineer depth and perspective. A yellow path, methodically sectioned and shaded, guides one's sight towards a purple distant figure venturing into a blue enclave, evoking a sense of mystery and anticipation. Adjacent, the yellow-green grass and pink-trunked trees with verdant leaves exhibit a similar geometric technique, delivering a surreal yet grounded frame. A solitary red bench witnesses the scene, a silent testament to past experiences, as told through the prism of psychedelic truffles, friendship, and the unexpected voyage into the depths of consciousness.

The essence of transcendent discovery, the blend of cool and warm tones, alongside a narrative enriched by poetic reminiscence, makes this piece a profound exploration of reality and perception, perceived soberly or under an altered state.