1999

Exposition: dramatic events not told. Conflict and crisis and what may develop. Looking clearly at the duality and not being able to see the one: unity. 

Repetition with variation. Form cries out to form with increasingly complex systems of association. Terribly dark and then suddenly enlightening.

Mother´s tears on a daughter´s birthday. Once she was a part of me, like a hand or a heart, a liver or a lung. Now she no longer belongs to me. When must we set them free? I can make it through the pain.

 Looking at my paintings again and the “mistakes” shout out, “I am a line and I want to be a stain!” The strange forms and awkward angles. I struggle with the ugly mess, the ugly truth. We are all dirty and require daily cleansing: human hygiene.

You have lost your soul, you say. You are living on empty? All that noise, who could concentrate? The constant interruption of people´s needs and then, unexpectedly, your touch. I stop. The wind whistles our names. Did you stop to listen on your way down to the town today? Did you see the huge masses of grey clouds? Were you afraid?

Gayola: bullfighting term which defines the way the matador receives the animal as it comes bursting through the tunnel (Toril)door.  S/he will be down on knees, cape held out in front of the body, and as the bull comes racing toward you, the cape must be brought up high in the air and then thrown back over one shoulder, as the bull swiftly passes by.

Destiny is screaming out my name and I am a foreigner who does not understand his language. Come? Go? Stand still to be kissed or blessed. The tremendous contradictions called love.

Painting without thinking or planning, simply going wherever my hand and spirit lead me.

Reading newspaper in bed, roll over and paint then realize I am trying too hard; I seem to be in the dark and cannot see clearly because I am wanting, more than anything else. Also, hungry.

Education is a luxury, I tell my son. I know, he says, looking real sad.