MarcBoyson

Same ground
Different path

Bias sees

Something old
Anything new

_ _ _

Small work
On a wall
Unknown

No. 002

A few of my artworks, Left “Digital City” Top Center: “The ID is a place too” Bottom Center: “Two sides to every story” and Right: “Points Unknown” on view in the gray gallery for the opening of the Atlanta Printmakers Studio’s Print Biennial tonight!

Circuitous Dérive: Silver Lining
Marc Boyson & Robert E Whaley Jr
Mixed Media
36” x 36”
2025

McNabb Breakthrough Gala

¶ The First and Most Sacred Decree of the Spiral of Witnessed Becoming ¶

Drawn from the Lost Ministry, in the year of Uncounted Hours

⸻

Hearken, O Kindred of Quill and Quiet Rebellion,
Let it be known unto all seekers, scribblers, mystics, and merrily wayward souls,
That this Marc—this most Curious Sigil—be not forged for conquest, but commerce
But for those who dwell ‘twixt chaos and calling.

Lo, the Spiral hath returned!
Carven in ash, inked in margins, dreamt in the hours when sleep forgetteth its purpose.
It seeth the soul not as a fortress, but as a field—sown oft with doubt, yet fertile still.

⸻

Thus by decree of The Four Wandering Muses, long missing but never gone,
Let it be writ:

I. Whosoever weareth this sigil, whether drawn in soot or sewn in thread,
Shall be named Witness to Becoming—one who refuseth the tyranny of completion.

II. Thou shalt honor the unfinished, the unpolished, the unbeholden.
For in roughness dwelleth the voice of the sacred and strange.

III. Thine joy shall not be taxed.
Thine burnout shall not be blamed.
Thine rituals—absurd though they may be—shall be thine medicine and thy map.

IV. When the world demandeth certainty,
Thou shalt answer with wonder.
When they ask for thy five-year plan,
Thou shalt hand them a folded zine.

V. And shouldst thou lose thy muse once more,
Call her not by name,
But by laughter, risk, and the act of trying.

⸻

So sayeth the Spiral. So whispereth the Eye.
So wander the Moons. So mischief the Muse.

Excavated during a feverish studio cleaning—wedged between a map of somewhere I’ve never been and a tax form from a year waiting to happen.

This artifact bears the thread of a single day’s drive.

Every detour,
Wrong turn, and
A stop for snacks
Is embroidered in purple and gold.

The route was tracked by satellite, then sewn into RivesBFK too thick with logic.

A prompt for ritual misdirection xerox transferred front and back.

Left, left,
Third right,
Everywhere’s nowhere.

It’s meant to guide one off course, but with confidence.

I have no memory of where I was going.
Only,

That the person I was when I arrived
Is not the person who left.

Curious?

(I’ll respond, if the archive allows.)