Introduction 2001

Being passive is a choice: how I was before and how I am now. Bar paintings: Botana Exhibit: Family Tree. Nine portraits and a giant atom exploding tree.

Degas pastel in Gran Capitain Exhibit. Breathless.

Painting. Cannot stop. House is a mess and children calling for attention. The color. Which color? Browns, tans and greens and then yellow poisoning it all. My family is supportive throughout the process. Life goes on, paella for lunch and then the siesta. The colors become muted and muddy. Bright orange red vermillion next to deep almost black, brown. Excitement. Then blues come in calm and cold. Greys always wanting to be noticed. Using the fan to dry “Arbol-Family Tree” hours before hanging.

Once they are hung, I am shaky inside; it is like walking around naked in front of everybody. Being with my paintings in the studio is entirely different from seeing them up on the walls under the spotlights and with people all around. There is less shame now, hardly any. I see the sadness in the eyes, their loneliness and solitude. Each one on his own and yet, always, looking for connection.

Painting Bull Dying: Background colors? The bullfighter is dressing, the room and the skies are dark, and the bullfighter is tense, irritable, perhaps. There is more grey which helps me relax.

Macaronis with meat, tomato, and cheese. Thank God for good food. The rain falling against the tiled roof, the birds, and voices from below scare me. I paint teapots. Had to pawn some jewelry.

The world is a mess, war is going on everywhere. The Taliban´s bombed Buddha. Painting with lots of linseed oil, the colors run, seem to be crying; always experimenting. The bulls burst through the Toril Door. Feeling trapped at survival level and then realizing how much I have to be thankful for.

Shadows and mirrors, those are my daily concern. Doing a lot of small bulls. Amateur Bullfighting Event with North and South Americans and Englishmen. Go for mud baths near the Mediterranean, in Murcia. Very hot and no money.

Painting and letting things flow, practice non-judgment, instead work with blind faith. Trying to get in touch with old friends but I am so far away. Selling little bulls in shops and along the way.

Very sad day for New Yorkers. Sad for the whole world. (September) More teapots.

Thinking of Francis Bacon, how disturbingly honest and cynical he was, and I used to be. Reading Juana La Loca by Manuel Fernandez Alvarez. It is a biography of Juana, she was born to the famous King Ferdinand and Queen Isabel, the very same woman who sold her pearls so Columbus could sail. Juana married Felipe el Hermoso (Beautiful Phillip) and things were pretty much the same then as they are now. People fighting wars for religious beliefs and to dominate the planet. Juana goes crazy. I look at my work in the mirror. Everything is backwards.