Artist Statement

Currently searching for home, Clay Hamilton is most often introduced as a musician. Their work explores many mediums; painting, drawing, essay poetry, experimental film doo-das and movement research.

Artist Statement:

When what concerns me as a human being and what I watch my art be concerned with overlap, I consider the moment fortuitous yet random.

How I can shift ingrained patterns of carelessness and transmute the impacts of such carelessness?

If my goal is some sort of freedom, or participation in the liberation of self and other, what do I need to do or realize to find myself in such a space?

Since the mind creates both the suffering and the remedy to suffering, one must be aware of whether one’s creations contribute to the trajectory of their true goals rather than to the perpetuation of neurosis’.

What tasks can we give the mind; what choices turn it towards goodness and truth? Do we employ old dogmas and preconceived cliche’s or do we follow the quiet voices that light the way with fresh sparks that oftentime ask us to choose the unknown.

Art is a powerful tool and ally for me. It is a lexicon and a context on my life journey.

Because of and despite such convictions and yearnings, most of my artistic action comes from a place mysterious to me. I see a line moving in space. I see the shining red, I watch it dance in my mind as I listen to Alice Coltrane and I feel a calling to realize my vision. Walking in rhythm a tune arises. My admission is that I usually have to get out of the way, to disappear, so that creation can come forth. It has its own momentum.

I am disillusioned with imposed power, hierarchies, beauty standards, gender expectations, production obsession, human centric perspectives. I am a destroyer of addiction toward outward perfection at the cost of inward development, of surgical self abuse- my art is a protest to that. 

I find my way again and again and again to genitalia. I tear off the clothes and dance naked on the paper. I paint on silenced bodies trying to reclaim their voices.

The violence and juxtaposition of innocence and sexuality, desire and disgust- rape, rejection, suicidality, mental illness, you can hear it in my music and see it trying to vocalize on big old rolls of paper.

My research as artist and human is to allow the expression of emotional/intuitive/instinctual artistic impulse to be in balance with or in a dialectical and perhaps even self imposed rational conversation with  health, balance and in the moment ok-ness that it seems I am pointed back towards.


 In other words, I trust the feelings, relaxing amidst the chaos of this particular moment in human development and continue to question everything.

In Protest to the Classism and Violence of the CV

born in New York City

I cried in my peach colored bedroom from the pain in my shins. A taurus born on concrete doesn’t walk without being pulled.

Relief was found in sketching at MOMA and riding the hill down to the Boat Pond on roller blades. 

Wild free summers on Fire Island until I was 14 balanced the growing sense that I wanted to die

I saw a man begging for money under a construction awning. I fished coins from my fathers pocket while he stood in line at Walgreens. “What do you need that for?” It's for the man outside, I pleaded. “No, no.” he said. But I grabbed some small coins and handed them to him.

The man smiled big and said, “Thank you, Princess.”

Greenwich CT living on a street lined in Mansions and a Chateau. That’s french for small castle. Misery. My first suicide attempt at 13.

4 High Schools. 3 Boarding

raped as a virgin. 15. behind a couch at a party. everyone was in another room. he put butter on his penis so he could get it in. i lay still for a long time after he left. when i sat up I saw a blotch of red on the dirty carpet underneath me.

mom told me to either go back to the catholic cult boarding school or stay on the streets. i wander them until 8 men find me and have sex with me consecutively. i was totally checked out after being raped. i was gone and my body became a carcass for drunken men to penetrate.

One year spent drooling on a couch heavily sedated on anti seizure medication I should never have been prescribed. The last two ‘schools’ were shut down due to findings of child abuse and neglect

watched a 16 year old boy jump off a balcony to escape the cult

11 intentional overdoses and waking up from an overdose thinking; Hell- that I've been reborn into the very moment I was seeking to escape from. I am in Hell.

18 years old, a year at Esalen Institute, naked, working on the farm and having the first consensual sex of my life

4 days fasting in the Death Valley Desert as a Rite of Passage into adulthood

i hear the voices of women singing to me; it seems to be a message about using my voice

work trade at Shambhala Mountain Center in the mountains of Colorado

i write my second song under the tutelage of a spiritually psychotic handyman named Roger

he claims to have lived in a cave for 15 years, been raped by a gang of men in Vietnam, taken in by leaders of the KKK, worked for leaders of the Morman church and to be an initiate in the Order of the Golden Dawn

He has pictures of the Karmapa, Madame Blavatsky and hooded KKK members on the wall

he teaches me how to read tarot

Naropa University

taking refuge and am given the name Great East Good Lady

Drop out for 1 year; chosen homelessness in SF

Cut to kundalini awakening during my first orgasm

return to Naropa

given to my Bodhisattva name: Earth Lady of Generosity in a mountainside in Crestone Colorado

3 months solitary retreat

joined a sex cult with my Tibetan Buddhist boyfriend

share a room with a young man recently returned for a 4 year meditation retreat in France

cut to mental breakdown

cut to bpd diagnosis

cut to best friend from high school suiciding

get work as a vocalist in a recording studio

complete my first Artist Residency where I am told I am the most prolific artist they have ever seen

I am offered a record deal with a creepy lying old man; I turn it down and give him rights all the songs I recorded with him because I am unwilling to sign my name with the devil’s

restless; i pack up everything and move to berlin to persue studies in experimental dance

totally out of place amongst my peers, i start to paint at night

I tour with another american band through iceland that winter without actually singing more than twice

i get kicked out a buddhist retreat while recovering from an abortion

my magic dancer friend jumps from a roof in Amsterdam at the exact moment i fall asleep during the day in connecticut and dream I kill myself and go through the dying process, my mind merging with white light

get a job teaching English to Chinese children over the computer so I can work and travel; dresscode is an orange shirt

I discover feedism culture and go into recovery from a 20 year eating disorder via 12 step phone meetings after taking a voice workshop in Greece

i meet and commence intensively working with a breath therapist who is also a student of the cosmic university in israel

1000s of selfies and videos sent to a dutch guy i meet online

we meet and fall in love with said dutchie who has no interpersonal intimacy skills; practically autistic

get lost in berlin again

I write an ad seeking a room in Berlin

a woman responds. we meet for tea. i dream that night that she tries to kills and rape me. i wake up intrigued and decide to move in.

meanwhile I am painting and I buy a used piano and start to write again

four months later the dream - or something quite like to it- actually happens

I realize i need to pay attention to my dreams

i start illegally living in my painting studio while studying german in the mornings when i can get out of bed and drafting three year proposals for my future

i date an 49 year old OCD businessman . He couldn’t be more normal and steady. His hobby is literally collecting sticks and rocks (not crystals: rocks)

I go to India to get a yoga Teacher Training

I return to Berlin with the feeling I am just beginning my life. But where must I go? My visa is up in two months and I’m not sure where to go.

present