ABOUT THE ARTIST
DANIEL MOLLOHAN IS AN ARTIST
I am insecure, sincere, bored, angry, annoying, and annoyed. I’m mostly ungrateful and overly anxious to the point of going pro. I am obsessed with my nearly compulsive behavior, faded obsessions, abstract delusions, and a voice stuck on the setting “snob”. I am overly generous, giving to a fault, fairly reasonable, nonjudgemental, open-minded and absolutely dirt poor.
I am only jealous of those undeserving folks who have whatever they want whenever they want it but seem to do nothing well with little enjoyment hardly ever. I dislike but I don’t hate (much). I am not bothered by those who dislike me or my work, as they are always unattractive, talentless, feeble-minded creatures or worse—sports fans.
I am quiet. I dress nicer than you, and no matter where I go I bring my camera (when I have one), my notebook, and a bag to hold them. People generally do not like this.
I have had my share of problems that most people can not understand because they seem like products of an overactive imagination paired with WebMD and sleep deprivation. So, people misunderstand me.
I am lonely and I am alone even among people or in crowds. I feel awful every other day and 365 times in a while. Pain plays a lead role in this just-jumped-the-shark season of the dramedy that might be my life, but we cut to pleasing commercials when I am taking photos.
Seriously, photography is my medicine, but I can’t use just any old camera, take any old medicine. I only feel alive or human or whatever is the opposite of nearly most of my minutes awake among the living with real rangefinder cameras, of which there is only one, and it’s the one and only.
That red dot, like HAL, forcing me. And of which I do not currently own. So, draw some conclusions. Go ahead and guess,
“How do you think I feel?”
I need a chance to prove myself. I’ll need you to think, long and hard, if you wish to be a part of my success, my life, and my art. Well, do ya, punk?
Don’t worry. I am getting to it. There will be buttons. Lots of buttons for you to click, and they will say “donate”.
I said, "They will say, 'DONATE'”.
Don't foolishly worry, as you read, reread this, whatever this is. You, unlike me, are not alone. Noone knows what this means; what this is trying to say.
"Why be so vague then? So weird?", you might ask. If you do, then what I would say to you is that all I am doing is, and all I have attempted to do is, being as true to myself as I can be in order for the interested ones to possess all of the information they may need or want, if they need or want that sort of thing. Sometimes, I feel, knowing that there exists someone else who does not fit the mold this society expects us to easily slide right into can make all of the difference, can shift planets, can give you that letter of approval; justification.
Or, you're the type who might roll your eyes at this. To whom I would ask, "How did you make it this far?", and call it a day.
Thanks, though, and I do with undeniably all of me cross my fingers so hard while wishing you gained something from the moments I snatched out of this real-life as this is all for all of you, and I don't, and most likely won't know most of you.
Good-bye, then and hello when I, if I...
[Bows politely. ]