compulsion to paint. is there a name for that? from that name was my compulsion born? and if my creative activity is to be described as compulsive behavior, do i wish to be free from it? as much as i desire freedom from life.
i am awake. through my waking mind images pass. i take a brush, a pen, and through brush and pen these images record themselves. i might be highly organized, efficient, sober, inquisitive etc. in my rational mind, but these images are what they choose to be.
there is no agenda, no program, don’t ask me for one. just a life between pillar and post.
what i want to see in these images (and you might see something else, they are as much yours as they are mine): freedom, mindfulness, compassion. a furious gentleness towards life. i see old stories in new clothes. there are stones, there are shadows. there is a smooth path under a tree. and i can relate all this and then return to what i know. because what i paint and write is what i confess not to know. and yet it is not ignorance i serve but the luminous mystery of a letter, a line, a word, a constellation, 20 degrees south-east of the belt of Orion, 23 times more luminous, twice the mass and the diameter of “our” sun. what i know is that if i could indeed throw an object hard enough, it would escape gravitational attraction, that there is a black hole in the galaxy M87, and that freedom is attainable through our words and acts.