Scott Waters: Toronto-based artist

Colour (Oil/Acrylic/Watercolour)

Statement>

In the end we all come to be cured of our sentiments

If I should lose all faith in God, I think that I should continue to believe invincibly in the world

A secret to survival, he'd say, was not coming at anything sideways unless you knew you were doing it (Ghost Walkers)

It's like trying to take the glamour out of sex, trying to take the glamour out of The Rolling Stones (words by Tim Page)

And this is how I sometimes think of myself, as a great explorer who has discovered some extraordinary land from which he can never return to give his knowledge of the world: but the name of this land is hell

Please believe in gentle dreams, the sweetness of people whistling in their sleep (title by A Silver Mt. Zion)

She... digs me, which is just as well, because if she wants to find the way to my heart she's going to need a fucking shovel.

What we take from animals, what we take from our pets (without trying, and without asking) is a lesson about death: an overview of the shorter span

To the dumb question, "Why me?" the cosmos barely bothers to reply: why not?

You see the skin, and the sky. At its very edge the blade dissolved into the universe at large

In this year of living dyingly (Christopher Hitchins)

Somewhere old heroes shuffle safely down the street

cloud 1

mushroom cloud 2

mushroom cloud 3

My little hawk, why do you cry?

Nothing is more frowned upon than nothing

Only on Earth is there any talk of free will

We Sleep to time’s hurdy-gurdy; we wake, if we ever wake, to the silence of God.

The longest-lived and the soonest to die have an equal loss

It’s not that you’re going down, it’s what you’re taking with you.

We are tragic men. Butcher’s hands, gentle souls (v1)

We Are Tragic men. Gentle hands, butcher's souls.

If one does what God does enough times, one will become as God is

God's Lonely Man

It only ends once. Anything that happens before that is just progress.

Pray we don’t get taken from the earth by all the things that are stronger than we are

This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time

I would rather be wrong than live in the shadow of your song

It echoed loudly within him because he was hollow at the core

$Stress fractures in titanium$

The true evil, which is the death drive, involves self-sabotage

They all knew what they knew. And knowing, lived in expectation

Day after day after day after day after day

Between the motion and the act falls the shadow

And i was thinking ‘bout how Everyone is dying. And maybe it's time to live

I pull the darkness out of myself and discard it like a shadow torn from my heels

I can barely describe the shape of this moment in time

What if “Horror” has less to do with a fear of death, and more to do with a fear of life?

It may, after all, be the bad habit of creative talents to invest themselves in pathological extremes that yield remarkable insights but no durable way of life

I can give you unspoken words that's never been spoke

It is the thought that stumbles over itself in thought

Sheer pointlessness is a deeply subversive act

(stories that) vanished, like the tale of the world itself

He had a low self-opinion, one he wanted to neither confirm nor deny

Between the wish and the thing the world lies waiting

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