In a way, this website is like my preemptive tombstone.

The epitaph, then, instead of a short phrase, sentence or quote, is a lifetime of art. bley.world pokes out somewhere in the weeds at the back of the internet…waiting for someone to stumble over it someday, long after I have suffered some kind of shitty fate which leaves me unable to ever again speak for myself, let alone create anything. If you look around, you’ll notice the site is designed for such a level of obscurity: no social media presence (at least, not in any sense typically expected of an artist), no discussion threads nor anywhere to instantly leave a public comment. I’ve received feedback that bley.world itself is confusing to navigate in its current configuration. In regard to my inclusion below of a newspaper article about a poetry award I won as a teenager, I was even told by one visitor to “get over myself”.

Addressing the latter, I found the comment especially baffling given a pervasive social climate that supposedly celebrates everyone, and tells people they should be constantly celebrating themselves. This is a largely archival site of one artist’s (my) life’s work. I have and will continue to include every relevant piece of media and material to that end. Aside from the hosting platforms on which bley.world is built and its content stored, all that is required for it to exist are my continued creative output and the time I choose to invest in it.

As to the confusion about the site, it is admittedly understandable, at least from the perspective of the average consumer-minded platform-scrolling individual. From that same perspective, I also understand any incredulity at my lack of interest in posting my content to any of the top “free” platforms. I gather that, for many, to somehow benefit from the global reach of those platforms is seen as guaranteed, automatic. Well, I’ve been there, tried that, and found it alienating, soulless, and far more hassle than it’s worth. Philosophically and socially, the sense of community these platforms purport to create is, simply put, not one I would like to contribute to.

Furthermore, my experience is that people are infinitely more likely to promote, like, share, repost or comment on literally any other content posted to the internet than mine, from that of massive global celebrities who don’t need more promotion, to random individuals who have been turned into celebrities despite their glaring mediocrity and marginal talent. Platform participation is also highly questionable in terms of ownership rights where content and data are concerned. A closer examination of the fine print—of the tradeoff costs both legal and artistic—often reveals these platforms as not truly free at all.

It would be, in my view, a poor use of our precious time for me to fully articulate—especially if I am to achieve anything remotely resembling brevity in this message—why the usual artist stereotypes are antithetical to everything I embody as a creator. The earnest, palatable self-marketing artist…the self-important self-appointed sociopolitical guru artist…these are a dime a dozen. However, instead of a stereotype, there is an appropriate archetype: Proteus. Not being big on mythology, let alone that specifically of the Greeks, I nonetheless find great meaning for myself in the character dubbed (by Homer) the Old Man of the Sea.