A piano score I made in 2009 called, ‘an imperfect offering’ I am by no means a pianist trained and or pro, however I like to sit down and play my moms piano whenever I ge the chance.
I am a dreamer, an artist, a painter, a brother, a friend, a son, an enemy, a colleague, a lover, a fighter, a human. I experience joy, I experience sorrow. I walk, I talk, I eat, I breathe, I live. I am a giver. I am a rebel. I am strong. I am weak. I am nature, I am a machine. I observe life, I paint from life, I make no bones about it. My intentions are pure, my art is unique. In a world where we settle for marginal and good enough, I aim to push through that and exceed my loftiest of dreams. Some have tried to stop me, some have tried to help me. I am lucky to have the kind of love and support to get me through the lows, the valleys. I am a complex, I am complexed. I am furious, I am joyous. I want to make a painting bigger than my feelings. I want to make art that tells a story, a continuation of stories, some my own, while others passed on to me. I am nobody, I am somebody. I am ego. I am sprit. I am changing, life is changing. I am growing, I am am shrinking. I see beauty. I see suffering. I see love. I see hate. I hear silence, I hear noise. I listen to you. I appreciate you. I love you. I fear you. There is no one label that I feel comfortable with in yet these are all things I am judged against. I am confused, frustrated, and bent out of shape. I am Zen like, at peace, sitting in silence. I am reasonable, rational, an intellect. I am irrational, I am abstract. I am emotional. I am sensitive, and even empathetic. I have no feelings, no emotion, I am a stone in a stream. I am closed, back in 5, ok I am good. I am nostalgic. I am sentimental, a product of the past. I am the future, the present, a friend when you need it. I am loyal, determined and even stubborn. I love the sky, the clouds, the moon. I am alone in my solitude. I am surrounded by love and joy. I am poor, I am rich, I am even, and off balance just a tick. I walk tall, I fall, I rise, and walk again. I am the voice in your head, the person behind the text. I am real, if only a dream, than real in a dream sense. I like to roam the streets at night. When the city sleeps I am in my studio. I’m not supposed to be living here all alone. I am supposed to rich and famous. I am not supposed to be living alone. I am supposed to be calling you. I am supposed to be feeling good. I am supposed to be running. I am supposed to be organizing. I am supposed to be giving you the time of day. I am not supposed to be feeling this way….so be it I really have no complaints… ( followed by a sad horn from a Mexican love song)
When I walk through my city I am often in awe of the growth this place has seen in the last 20 years. This is my home, it has been both good to me, and and it has been challenging as well. I am very connected to the land here, and the sky. It’s colours spectrum a delight to the eye. I usually avoid the downtown if possible, mostly going for appointments and meetings. The other day I went for a walk into the core to change things up a bit. What did I see? Well, I saw this…
A painting I am currently working on. I have been intentionally making the subject become unrecognizable, not my usual kind of work however this painting is about something I think we can all relate to, it is the end of a feeling, the moving on from something, someone, and the degradation of that memory. It is not exactly easy subject matter however I want to paint and convey deeper emotions that are relatable to many of my fellow humans, and the subject matter however personal serves a higher purpose when it comes to dealing with sorrow and the human condition.