A friend commented that my new series was like going back and rescuing my people from the scourge of samsara. He said he felt like throwing in the towel on his family because his family's paradigm is so polar opposite of his - a precocious phase or something.
I think every paradigm is precocious.
I imagine these paintings as explorations of the feeling of the place my Italian ancestors settled as immigrants, it's where I was conceived ... and the Falls, for me conjures up tantra.
Another friend said these paintings were cosmic eggs of multitudes of experiential journeys into subtle elemental landscapes with Dakini guides and followers/wanderers. Shakti is riding Shiva, baby!
The studio is busy, I am busy, even the wind is busy right now blowing and bending what it will in its path. Painting feels like that: blowing and bending paint into every square inch of the canvas until it stops. Why does the wind stop blowing?
I used to be afraid of the wind, sometimes I still am afraid, but right now the movement she performs in front of me is feeding my arms and eyes and feet as I paint these large canvases, like a dance that involves my whole being.
I started these paintings two years ago, in August 2015. I wrote a manuscript about making them. I haven't read those pages for more than a year. There is probably more to write, the wind tells me. I invite the wind to permeate and pass through to finish the book pages. But first the paintings, because even as I write these few blog words the paint is wet and ready.