Who Stole the Cookies

A1 Print.

In this piece, the ever-present reaper looms from the background, embodying the inevitability of life’s two certainties: death and taxes. It’s a visual exploration of the tension between financial ambitions and wanting to, as ma Jigg*** Wiz put it, live Young, Wild & Free.

The imagery reflects a cognitive dissonance: a personal struggle with the idea of money. To buy the new flashy car on finance because, fuck it, you only live once? Or drive a bright red 2003 Honda Fit because it’s the ‘sensible choice’ - financially speaking anyway. (it’s a sleeper car, trust! pink slips any day).

My inspiration has always been my parents. 

Despite coming from very humble beginnings, and the unexpected birth of baby Dalskee (me) at just 21, they managed to build a modest empire - but not without sacrifice. 

My dad’s parents live in Te Kōpuru, a small town in the North near Dargaville, and home to roughly 500 people. Poppa had a number of jobs from memory, he worked in the fields, dropped trees in the forest, and one of my earliest (and favourite) childhood memories was staying up late at night to see him drive the massive milk tankers past the house. My Nan worked in the health care system. I also have vivid memories of visiting her at work and meeting her (very mentally ill) patients.

My mum on the other hand was born in NZ, but my nana and Thomas (who I never got to meet), migrated from Dublin, Ireland, on the SS boat (which I now know means Steam Ship) - taking a four month, one-way journey in the hope for greener pastures.  I’ve come to embrace the idea of balance while acknowledging the sacrifices of those before me and my responsibility to deliver the same, if not better. Be purposeful, nurture close connections and stop to smell the roses.