“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” – Pablo Picasso
When I touch a new set of brushes, paint, and a blank canvas, I await in anticipation for… the go. I smile to the spirits—joy peeking from the deepest corners of my mind. I smile to the universe and its abundant energy. Energy is a live entity; that little something we do not necessarily see; that little something that grazes the shadow of the unknown. At times in the form of a whisper, the energy that guides me is a hidden desire, a vision, an intuition, a tapestry of styles blended into one single stroke of the brush. All this is my go.
Each project is a testament to the unknown, a mission, an expression, a free-spirited entity, one that is truly free to roam, but one that settles into our hearts; nesting, cradling our souls; somewhere we can rest, a place to call… home.
I paint for you; I have seen you in my sleep—a mass with no boundaries, a person with no features, a look, a shiver, a secret. One morning, not long ago, I awoke with a sense of hyperconsciousness, a mindful novel of my soul; a message that I needed to share. I am well aware of this precious gift of creativity that has been bestowed on me and I will take good care of it. I will make sure to keep it safe, I will make sure to allow it to flourish. I have exhaustively questioned this sudden ability and desire to create. Perhaps I’ve learned this new language of expression in my sleep? Or, perhaps it’s always been there, in my subconscious? All I know, is that I am simply driven to physically execute the abstract of my mind; my hand being drawn to the brush. And as I watch myself delivering brushstroke after brushstroke onto the brilliant white of a canvas, I realize that I can go anywhere and everywhere. That’s what I call true freedom.