people climbers

Dont watch out for,

Icey mountains.

hand of darkness / oil / canvas / 17 x 21 in. / 250

 

Resurrection / oil / canvas / 17.5 x 19.5 inches / 300.00

 

digestive tract / oil / canvas / 13.5 x 12 inches / 200.00

 

 

 

the perilous path / oil / canvas / 14 x 15 inches

earthwalker / oil / canvas / 12 x 12 inches / 200.00

 

*as a kid i used to wander the desert. it was a passion to explore everything i found was new to me because i was mostly alone. i had a book that once water spilt on the pages and made it wavy and warped; in it contained the entire glossary of the different deserts ecosystems, plants, animals, geology of north america. i was living in the mojave so that was where i resided in the tomb, and identified and became more knowledgeable about what i was discovering for myself. there were ants everywhere. and in the shadow of the purple mountains during the sunrise of our sky fiery & enchanting this ant proceeds along its path guided by pheromones and a certainty of its actions. both present and future. the painting framed in the semblance of a cherished child hood ant farm (you can tell by the green borders. because so much of life is memory this painting is all bleeding and faded wiped and smudged. the feeling of the total experience through an image made by amalgamation.

 

 

 

idyll bells / oil / canvas / 20 x 18 inches / 300.00

 

storytime / oil / canvas / 21 x 21 inches / 400.00

ikebana / oil / canvas / 31 x 23 inches / 500.00

Plane Crash

Like a leaf on gentle wind, we floated down to paradise. Where old tourists, faraway bathed their, achy old hearts. The first night we, gathered luke warm without knowledge. Ancient trees watched us assemble the remains o f our luggage; i setup a transient bar: tequila, scotch, bourbon, cognac, and wine. Fire, tacos, myrmyrs... for dinner. Those that were sleepy retreated to nearby caves. And the final burning embers dimly gave way to crashing waves. Morning brought no one together. So i followed my soulmate, and a retreating river to town. More bodies, caked in white crystalline, or zinc, wrinkles, bored grandchildren; rows of white houses with the same double chairs in front and origin flags. I spoke Catalan; my lover German. Amused we were rescued. Returning with two others. They hadn't tasted what we had. We threw a party. At last the world beckoned. There was so little struggle. Nothing hard. Never weary. My stomach full. Warm and cozy. Missing without worry. Never lost, simply present. I cant remember what happened to, the others. And part of us forever stayed on that island.