I don’t believe in god, but I used to.

That’s an understatement; I thought I could talk directly to god in a private language that no one else could translate. It was fucking magical and cathartic.

(And before we get too far into this, I want to thank you for letting me get a little vulnerable with this article. It’s going to read more like an emo livejournal post from the early 2000s than a technical deep dive into generative art techniques, but that’s just where I’m at right now… so I hope you enjoy this little confessional.)

Ok, let’s define some terms, namely the namesake:

Glossolalia (more commonly referred to as ‘speaking in tongues’) is defined as: “the phenomenon of (apparently) speaking in an unknown language, especially in religious worship. It is practiced especially by Pentecostal and charismatic Christians.” (Oxford via Google)

Fine, only one term needed to be defined.

Now, I was raised in a very religious environment and loved speaking in tongues for a number of reasons. Mostly, it was for the emotional release it provided, but also… it’s pretty damn fun once you get the hang of it.

Side note: There’s a great record by Talking Heads called ‘Speaking in Tongues’. Feel free to put it on. It’s great. I’m listening to it right now.

I should also say that I didn’t set out to make a project about this “spiritual gift.” It just sort of happened.

Occasionally, yes, I’ll start with an idea of what I want to create, but often, I’m just playing with shapes and techniques until the resulting compositions start meaning something to me and then I lean into it. I’m sort of trusting my subconscious to do its job there.

Glossolalia, is one of those projects that revealed itself. It started with me playing with multiple canvases and using those as brushes. I was taking those canvases and stretching/layering them on the screen in various ways just to see how they felt. A collage, or sorts.

Eventually, it had me thinking about my adolescence and the relationship I had with religion at that time, or more specifically… how I dealt with emotional release as a result of that aspect of my life.

To put it simply, the outputs trigger the feelings of catharsis that I associated with the act of speaking in tongues as a kid. It was mash of emotions that felt liberating and the chaos and vibrancy in the art had a similar vibe.

So, here we go.. my childhood. I’ve talked about it a lot, but not publicly in how it relates to the art I make.

My therapist, on the other hand, has heard way too much about it… but honestly, I’m sure there’s more to discuss with her and I doubt it will ever be a topic we exhaust. I mean, it’s therapy, it always comes back to that in the end.

You’ll get the abridged version.

My mother’s side of the family was protestant/pentecostal, and my father’s was catholic.

While we went to catholic mass once or twice a year… I was in my non-denominational-spirit-filled-evangelical-home-away-from-home 4 or 5 times a week, and twice on Sundays, obviously.

I was involved wherever I could be at church.

I was cast as Jesus for our “drama team” because I had long hair and was willing to wear just a loincloth and a crown of thorns for public performances where I would be (mime) crucified while nailed to my sister, who was cast as the cross.

I was treasurer of the youth group. I went to Jesus camps in the summer and on international mission trips before I could drive a car.

Ironically, it was on one of these trips where I lost my faith, and it was directly related to glossolalia. We’ll come back to this.

Part of assimilating into belief systems is that it helps if you can rewire your brain to create a reality such that the precepts of those beliefs make sense and seem logical, even if they are anything but that and you just end up lying to yourself in fancy ways. Often, it means changing the meanings of words or generally accepted concepts just to make everything fit.

In short, it takes work; suspension of disbelief on many fronts and a huge leap of faith, which can sometimes mean detachment from reality, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing: Reality, famously, bites.

Some people can do this and it makes their world or life better. They can even do it in ways that don’t impede on the freedoms or beliefs of others. But some folks, because of fear or frustration, can turn to alienating or demonizing anyone who doesn’t agree with them. Sometimes to the point of violence or enslavement but we are getting far off topic now… and for that, I apologize.

The point I’m trying to make here, mainly, is that the beliefs I was indoctrinated with didn’t work for me specifically.

Let's get into why.

I was born in the late seventies and came of age in the 80s and 90s and at that time, religious folks—especially evangelicals—were pretty turned off with queer shit, to put it lightly.

That was a bummer for me because as I grew up, I realized I wasn’t the ideal cis/hetero person the church wanted me to be. At the very least, I knew I wasn’t exclusively attracted to women. Before I knew of the term pansexual—and that gender & sex wasn’t binary—I identified as bisexual. I hated myself for it, naturally, and the only thing I really knew is that I should push those feelings as deep inside of me as possible and never, ever act on them.

God is watching, always. Even your thoughts, which is pretty rude.

Looking back, I think I was also conflating gender identity and sexuality because guess what, education and having a useful vocabulary on these topics was pretty scant in the evangelical home of the 1980s. If only we had the genderbread person diagram to refer to, but we didn’t.

You might have guessed this, but I was never the most masculine kid. At the time I had no real understanding of what being transgender or non-binary really was either. I wasn’t even allowed to listen to secular music even though all I wanted to do was dress like Boy George.

Later in life, I had a bit of gender panic but after some questioning and self-exploration, I became quite happy having come to terms with a pretty fluid relationship with my gender.

Why am I talking about this and what does it have to do with speaking in tongues?

Well, in my experience… it took a lot of work in the form of highly critical self-policing and loathing just to fit in to the world as defined by my church and the beliefs they pushed.

It ultimately manifested with a lot of cognitive dissonance, repression and frustration related to not knowing how to act or think in ways that didn’t somehow add up to being sinful… and as such, not good enough for god’s grace and probably burning in hell for eternity as a result, which sounded pretty shitty.

In short, it was pretty stressful just to exist, but speaking in tongues was this beautiful sweet release that helped balance it all out… well, kind of… it helped for a while, at the very least.

Honestly, I absolutely miss certain aspects of religious life, but nothing compares to the feeling of breaking into this private language mid-worship and just letting it all out.

We thought of this act as a direct connection to god’s ear… with a special language gifted just to us that let our inner core/spirit communicate with “him” completely unencumbered by thinking. Phew! It was like praying, but without having to know what to say or even what it to pray about.

For me, someone who was constantly on high alert trying to avoid sin in all its forms, even sinful thinking… these were euphoric fucking moments.

It was one of the few times where you could let go completely. You couldn’t say anything wrong because the sounds you were making were stream-of-subconscious gibberish.

It was like a quiet(er) version of primal scream therapy.

In a group it was even better because it was chorus of folks all letting their feelings out. Apparently, mob-processing emotions is pretty damn good. Sometimes we even cried together. (And I love to cry.)

Now, whenever the topic of speaking in tongues comes up, I often describe it as better than most drugs that I’ve tried, and I mean that… if I could take this as a pill, I absolutely would. The problem is that it only works if you believe that you are actually talking directly to god, which of course, I did.. until I didn’t.

After that it was like a less-playful-baby-talk that felt really awkward. And yes, I faked it for a while until I could accept that I had lost my faith, and with it... my direct line to god.

As I mentioned earlier, I lost it while on a group teen mission trip. We were praying for one of our members to receive this gift of tongues and we were all surrounding them in a garden while also “laying on hands”—which just meant we were touching their shoulders, don't worry, nothing too weird.

Most of us were passionately speaking and singing in our imaginary languages, but it just wasn’t happening for this target of ours.

They were just silent, and looked a little scared.

In a moment of clarity/detachment, I pictured this scene as if viewed from the outside and it fucking terrified me.

Immediately, my belief in this being real came to a halt and I lost my ability to speak in tongues, and ultimately, to believe in this god.

Mostly, this erosion of faith happened because I had instantly reframed my entire relationship with it and how I came to possess this ‘gift’ in the first place… which was at the result of adults pressuring/encouraging children to “let the spirit fill you” and to just “say what sounds come to mind” so we could “make god happy by being open to receive him…” and what god-fearing child doesn’t want to make god happy or receive this fabulous gift they have to offer.

In terms of making that jump, you can easily mold reality in a way to think this is all real and then just lean into it because honestly, it’s fun to freestyle sounds. There’s an abstract lyrical quality to it and getting used to it is a bit like learning improv comedy, I'd imagine. It feels great once you get over the stage fright.

I equate this to a performance because it feels like taking on a role the same way a method actor embodies their character to get to where they need to be… which in our case, was getting closer to god. (And yes, to purge a lot of this I listened to Nine Inch Nails for years, for better or worse.)

We needed that closeness, we thought.. we definitely wanted that, at least… even if that meant sacrificing elements of one’s self along the way... because ultimately we don’t matter, and our desires and this life we live doesn’t matter… life really begins when you die, right?

Right.

Let’s take a breath and get back to the art and how this all connects.

As mentioned earlier, when I was creating this algorithm, it triggered a lot of the same emotions that I remembered from when I was exercising this “spiritual gift”.

There is a lot of energy in the compositions, and when speaking in tongues it feels like you can expose every part of yourself in a way that is normally forbidden.

This, to me, was a nice visual metaphor for how this art can be chaotic and messy, but also vibrant and diverse at the same time.

Mostly though, I feel like the collection reflects the catharsis felt when speaking in tongues. The excitement and relief of putting your guard down, while being able to enjoy a rush of endorphins, to boot.

That release is critical when you’re spending so much time repressing who you are. Looking back, I think having that extended my ability to continue believing so long in the first place. How could it not?

I also mentioned earlier that this algorithm uses multiple canvases as brushes. I really like how this extends the metaphor for this concept. As a result of these beliefs, I felt there were multiple aspects that were being repressed, for me, sure, but by anyone in this sitch, I'd imagine.

Compositionally, I love how they manifest as repeating patterns floating up and between. Even though it was obscured by an untranslatable language, it mapped to the cathartic attempt to reveal oneself in a safe way... over and over. (There was a lot of repetition when speaking in tongues, btw.)

We just want to be seen, even if we’re presenting that self in an encoded way. Hey, it's better than nothing.

Maybe it’s a bit of jump to see that, but in the end, this collection is just an abstract expression.

To me, it triggers thoughts of repression and release, but that’s the great thing about art… it could mean something completely different to you and provoke a unique response, or none at all. It could leave you cold. Nothing is for everyone.

Still, to me it’s an emotional piece, and I thank you for your patience with letting me write about it. Even the process of documenting this feels a bit therapeutic and you can bet I’m gonna talk to my therapist about it.

Whatever you believe and whoever you are underneath all those beliefs, I love and appreciate you and your time.

I hope you connect with the collection somehow, as I know it’s not always religion or beliefs that cause us to make ourselves smaller.

This collection isn’t about that part of it anyway; its an embrace of the release afterwards... a celebration of the parts of ourselves that we are sometimes ashamed of, but shouldn’t be.

It’s always about the reveal.

It could be how someone blooms after removing themself from a toxic relationship, job or environment… or just finding the lifestyle that allows them to shine as brightly as they can.

In a nutshell: It’s about whatever frees you.

I also want to say that what was written here is just my experience, and may not resonate with you at all. That’s ok.

This isn’t written to convince you to have (or reject) any sort or set of beliefs. I just felt like revealing a bit of my history and how it affects my view of the world, and how it helped shape this collection.

Thank you for bearing with me through this unexpected recount of my religious journey.

20% of primary sales will be donated to Outright International, a group that works towards better LGBTQ lives. (Thank you, fxhash, for adding this to the list recently. So appreciated!)

Glossolalia will go live on Thursday, January 19th at 18:00 UTC.