Painting (view other series)
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In this oil painting from the 'farm series,' I share with you my recollections of the unknown, the unfathomable yet the ubiquitously undeniable.
I created this and the other pieces after relocating to the heartlands of France, in the Auvergne region. The surroundings resounded in innocence, vibrations of fresh-faced souls: foal, fowl, frogs, freesia, French marigold... Serene and serving of every practical and impractical wish, it provided for the inner and outer explorations that had beckoned me and eventually manifested from my gut and bones; one never really knows how or from where.
All discernable sensations were amplified; undoubtedly all others as well. The dissonance of yesterday and tomorrow, those dangling and dizzying distractions that pound on the eardrums of every being, perhaps just woman and man, were swiftly diminished to the patter of a butterfly’s wings. Compared to other previous work environments, this modest haven would eventually embed in me a timeless impression, so deep and sacred; where the clock's grip became stripped of its force and masked motives, revealing its bossy, tomfoolery, anarchistic schemes. And so, amidst a lush forest and lulling terrain, I trekked and promenaded daily, over the wild green pastures, under the canopy of a tame forest and before the confessional of countless cotton canvases, feverishly seeking to rediscover novel ways to navigate the shores of existence, without the fetters of time.
In the evenings and at dawn, I fell into buckets of mind spells and painted until brushes would warp or snap, as my spine occasionally did. Yes, just as one squints when confronting the sun, discomfort can arise and pain can blind when staring into the hooking eyes of bliss. For an entire year, cradled in nature's bosom, on a stone cracked farm, I soaked in a luscious fragrance of oak, ancient wisdom and unfiltered simplicity. Each and every day, the ambiance and the artwork rendered hints of a new way of seeing, an innovate image, the promise of my private renaissance. Admittedly, that privilege which I had been led into was not deciphered from the get-go. As with all earthly matters, however, the egg of curiosity is what feeds and pushes forth our core to the next awaiting station.
My creations from this period evince the discovery of absolute nothingness, an unknowable quality. It is neither flawed power nor petty poetry. It is a certain state that cannot be made certain; one that does, never shall and never did vary. Nothing, a base that allows for the baseless, where the root of all roots will all extensions, transformations, and renewals.
At this moment, I write with memories of comforting melodies reverberating within: of feathered voyeurs, cows, donkey, and bees a buzzing. At this instant I recall cherries, fallen and waiting like anxious virgins; and the reassuring breeze, charged by caring electrons, or a prophetic message carried on the wings of a biblical wind. One never really knows. E
I created this and the other pieces after relocating to the heartlands of France, in the Auvergne region. The surroundings resounded in innocence, vibrations of fresh-faced souls: foal, fowl, frogs, freesia, French marigold... Serene and serving of every practical and impractical wish, it provided for the inner and outer explorations that had beckoned me and eventually manifested from my gut and bones; one never really knows how or from where.
All discernable sensations were amplified; undoubtedly all others as well. The dissonance of yesterday and tomorrow, those dangling and dizzying distractions that pound on the eardrums of every being, perhaps just woman and man, were swiftly diminished to the patter of a butterfly’s wings. Compared to other previous work environments, this modest haven would eventually embed in me a timeless impression, so deep and sacred; where the clock's grip became stripped of its force and masked motives, revealing its bossy, tomfoolery, anarchistic schemes. And so, amidst a lush forest and lulling terrain, I trekked and promenaded daily, over the wild green pastures, under the canopy of a tame forest and before the confessional of countless cotton canvases, feverishly seeking to rediscover novel ways to navigate the shores of existence, without the fetters of time.
In the evenings and at dawn, I fell into buckets of mind spells and painted until brushes would warp or snap, as my spine occasionally did. Yes, just as one squints when confronting the sun, discomfort can arise and pain can blind when staring into the hooking eyes of bliss. For an entire year, cradled in nature's bosom, on a stone cracked farm, I soaked in a luscious fragrance of oak, ancient wisdom and unfiltered simplicity. Each and every day, the ambiance and the artwork rendered hints of a new way of seeing, an innovate image, the promise of my private renaissance. Admittedly, that privilege which I had been led into was not deciphered from the get-go. As with all earthly matters, however, the egg of curiosity is what feeds and pushes forth our core to the next awaiting station.
My creations from this period evince the discovery of absolute nothingness, an unknowable quality. It is neither flawed power nor petty poetry. It is a certain state that cannot be made certain; one that does, never shall and never did vary. Nothing, a base that allows for the baseless, where the root of all roots will all extensions, transformations, and renewals.
At this moment, I write with memories of comforting melodies reverberating within: of feathered voyeurs, cows, donkey, and bees a buzzing. At this instant I recall cherries, fallen and waiting like anxious virgins; and the reassuring breeze, charged by caring electrons, or a prophetic message carried on the wings of a biblical wind. One never really knows. E
