Blossoms in the Snow
The desperation of passing instants
The spirits go away . . .
Above: clouds are passing
Below: people pass like ghosts.
When the humans go away, when the ghosts go away, why is it such a parade of sorrow? Perhaps because passing introduces the past to the present and to the inflexible future, as youth introduces old age and old age introduces death.
With ghosts you will not straighten your accounts.
Extracts of Existence
Me — old and young, rich and poor, wise and fool, loner and social, universal and detached, free and prisoner… Struck blind and deaf, emigrating from myself, I took the pathway to intuition.
I paint, I write, and simultaneously the mystery reveals itself through my invisible partner; there are two of us, as I discovered in my old dream. Apparently, one takes on himself the chains of reality, the second one acts in the domain of the unknown (intuition). Remember that what you create is, in the first place, a … Read More
Autumn Afternoon, oil on burlap, 23 3/4 x 29 1/2 ~WM~
When you’re young and full of spring you perceive and admire the somber drama of the fall and winter. But when the fall/winter penetrates you, you perceive no beauty but sadness, which through your talent, like Debussy, you transform eventually into a message of beauty with the last vestiges of energy, of the light-life remaining in you.
#83 Autumn Afternoon, excerpt, September-October 2004
In ‘the land of living skies’ (Saskatchewan) I had a dialogue with the sky which spoke to me the language of clouds. Their shapes were like dance without melody, music for the eyes. The sky seems to enjoy the spectator; it would be impossible for such grandeur to exist only for itself. The spirits would be absent. The sky and I unite our solitudes to draw the spirits out of noneness. Sky, spirits and I, we rise to heaven.
Extracts of Existence
