Currently, I am obsessed with the idea of obsession.
I’ve always been a visually obsessive person. From early childhood, I tended to grab onto a visual theme, became fixated on it, and recreated the theme in crayon, colored pencil, cardboard or even Super 8 movies until the subject was exhausted. Long harsh prairie winters gave me an excuse to stay in and crank out piles of doodles, filling scrapbooks with pages of fish, then pages of maps, then Batman, then round-cornered TV screens with the game graphics of Pong rendered in felt marker, and on and on. Later it was comic book characters, which turned into an obsession with making comic books. You get the idea.
At some point, this need to reinterpret and reinvent my visual obsessions gave way to jobs, school, and practical pursuits. But thankfully, it found me again years later when I was ready for it, and had experienced the world beyond comics and 8-bit video games. Along the way I had picked up an appreciation for architecture (I’m a rabid Art Deco fan), graphic and industrial design (why wasn’t I born as Raymond Lowey?), cinema (David Lynch in particular) and my musical tastes broadened (if Fats Waller had been alive, I would have stalked him). Along with the obsessiveness, that childhood world of costumed heroes, rubber monsters, giant insects and weird landscapes also reattached itself to my psyche; more likely, it had never really left, it just re-emerged with a vengeance.