Wondering about life and the quest for purpose…
As “Art” seems to have a bigger plan for me than what I am prepared to admit…
Only Heaven can tell…
Thus; neither logic nor experience…
Just from the fragile place of secrecy, where my soul and heart whisper and fear cautions that others might listen…
My art is made of dreams
Is about finding the essence of things
Is about those lines, shapes, strokes and stains that bear the energy of creation,
The seed of becoming,
The muscle of life
My art dives in colors and layers looking for the authentic
Rescuing it from the veils of the constructed
And organizing it in a kaleidoscopic view of existence
My art is in love with movement and continuity
It travels space and time in its quest for the origin
And blends in the dream of transcendence
My art is not mine; at least not from the one in the mirror
Is the strange and magic exploration of my hands
With an unknown destiny
Is a refuge for my soul, or perhaps the way it speaks to me?
My art aspires to be a haven without blame for others and me to reside
A realization of our unique thread in the fabric of being alive
And how the Cosmos secretly stitches and weaves
Encounters and loses,
The farewell of the old
The fate of greatness we call hope
Thanks to Dave Hilgendorf for keeping my English bullet proof! Or at least improving.. Tough teacher, but the best of the friends…
Beautiful thoughts. How do you you use words to describe the things that words cannot possibly describe? That’s what I’m wrestling with now. Best
Thank you so much Tom.
How? As you do in photography. I am not a photographer, but I can see when the camera become the eye and leaves the man behind to capture what is imperceptible to the human eye. Let go, and the feeling will take over…you know the exact momentum to “click”, just describe it without judging it. Why that image? why the light? This angle, focus? This lent?
You already know, just add the passion, the intention you feel when you chose to “click”
Best regards.