I was a painter. I hung shows that nobody knows. I sold so few paintings that I can count them on my hand and I would like them all back. Because, I never really made paintings to sell. I made paintings to heal. To make me whole. Each one I created was my child. I miss them so. I can see a few of them in my mind, where they hang. In their dusty hallways or stuffed away in closets. Too scary for babies to grow up with. Too see the scream of infinity. Echoes for an infinity.
My daughter says,”infinity plus 10,000″. She thinks she beat me. She’s seven and doesn’t understand infinity. Who does understand infinity? Oh, the power of forever. Forever plus infinity. That’s what I wanted to say with each painting. Infinity. See the everything. See the nothing. I wanted you to look deep inside yourself and collapse to your knees. See the fractal geometry. See the sacred in the pedestrian.
I wanted you to look deep inside yourself and understand nothing. That there is no answer. That no one really knows. That if we really knew the “why” of things, we’d be bored. That our consciousness is part of it. That IT is within and without limits. I was a painter. I hung art shows that nobody saw. That nobody knows. That no one talked about. I can still see myself on opening night waiting for a crowd to show. If the crowd grew to twenty that was plenty. To have one real conversation was worth it all. Because I was. I am. You are. We are forever.
Thinking of you Ken Vallario. Wish I could have made it.