2006

Everything is lines. There are no lines. What lines? Expectations from others, where is the line? Transgressing and crossing boundaries.

I used to analyze…and think I needed to understand everything. Ignorance is bliss.  Reading Maruja Mallo biography and return to the 1920´s.

Silent snowstorm while horseback riding in Santa Fé.  I was painting, then suddenly got real sad and realized I was so cold I had to get up and leave the mysteries of color. I came upstairs to fret, about what? About what is done and what must be left undone

 Hemingway says many things about Getrude Stein in A Moveable Feast.  And still, A Rose is a Rose, is a Rose. And nada matters. Let the colors sink in, the browns, beige, tan, pinks and roses.

Lizard Brain Hyperactive.  I paint, and cook fish for lunch, then paint and sweep the stairways at night.  Painting a naked woman, all golden brown, pregnant, and hot in summer afternoon. Spanish dancers, Flamenco music, and Bullfights  are always around and some paintings are out in shops and galleries.  Severe pain when I receive the news from back home.  And I start painting mountains. I don´t need to be understood.

Painting in the dungeon and it is very cold and wet. Paintings seem to thrive in that atmosphere. Dealing with the unfinished and letting go of wasteful fear. Dancing between time and space, then researching self-portraits with mirror effects and discover the National Portrait Gallery in London on line.

Start drawing  Alayos Mountains.  Paint teapots and olive trees. Color is vibration. Suspiro del Moro Mountain. The Moor´s Last Sigh Mountain.

I hurt myself when I thought I was looking for a way out of my pain.  I love the tingle and sudden release, I love the peace of not belonging, of not needing, nor desire.