Cynthia Rey

Limpiando y olvidando

2009-09-04T12:49:00.002+02:00

Limpiando y olvidando

Introduction 2008

2009-08-19T16:38:00.000+02:00

In preparation of this website I began reading through my journals in order to date old works and place them in chronological order. Some of the writings that evolved alongside the production of the paintings seemed to me to be interesting and relevant to what was happening on the canvas, so I have included bits and pieces from each year.

I went out into freezing cold temperatures (18 Fahrenheit) and walked a mile to the nearest metro station. I was dressed warmly, with scarves and gloves and a down coat, but it was so cold that by the time I reached the metro station, I could no longer feel my legs. My thighs were frozen against my jeans, and later when I went to the restroom at the National Gallery of Art, I noticed they were all red and blotchy. I have not experienced anything like that since I left Michigan twenty-three years ago. After more than a decade of living in the south, I forgot how cold cold cand be!

An Introductory Tour of the Early Italian to Early Modern was about to begin, I joined the group. The guide spoke to us about the techniques used to prepare the tempera paint which was mixed with egg yolk and usually applied over wooden panels. Da Vinci, who was such a renaissance man began to use oils, something that he had at least heard about from the Northern European artists. The National had one Da Vinci on display, Ginerva de Benci. It is stunning. It is said to have been made as a wedding present and the young Ginerva is portrayed on one side and on the other Vinci painted a Laurel branch, a juniper flower, and a quote in Latin about Beauty and Virtue.

We then went to see Ruben´s grand painting of Daniel in the Lion´s Den, “theatrical” is how the guide described it. Later we stopped to admire Rembrandt´s self-portrait (he was about fifty years old). El Maestro. His wife Saskia was portrayed in a smaller painting which was hung beside the great Master.

Finally, she took us to see one of Monet´s Impressionist paintings of his wife and son out in a field in France. She spoke about the difficulties the Impressionists suffered because their work was shocking for the general public and unacceptable for the Great Salon Exhibitions.

I like the way the light bounces off of everything, giving it form. Life has been this incredibly long, interesting journey.

Sometimes we say the exact opposite of what we really feel and then “that conversation” sticks out in our head. Things are usually not black and white and we all get confused by the diversity of grey.

The clock ticks away. I think I know the size of every day, every minute that I am alive.

Who is obsessed with time? The leaves falling as the sun goes down, the baby crying at dawn. Who punches the clock every day? Who misses the bus then turns around and walks back home? Who grasps the clock just to throw it down again? Who never wants to feel abandoned and always needs to be alone? Kiss me time; lay a hand upon my heart. Remember the years, my friend, stay with me, till death do us part.

Will blood still be thicker than water in the future? Plasticity reigns. And we walk on, one foot in front of the other, day after day, year after year.

Anselma

2009-08-19T16:37:00.000+02:00

Anselma

(55 x 52 cm)

Beatriz

2009-08-19T16:36:00.000+02:00

Beatriz

(35 x 27 cm)

Bull 103

2009-08-19T16:35:00.001+02:00

Bull 103

(30 x 24 cm)

Bol de fruta

2009-08-19T16:35:00.000+02:00

Bol de fruta

(34 x 27 cm)

Driving shoes

2009-08-19T16:34:00.000+02:00

Driving shoes

(30 x 20 cm)

Horse

2009-08-19T16:32:00.001+02:00

Horse

(30 x 24 cm)

Girl with rag

2009-08-19T16:32:00.000+02:00

Girl with rag

(74 x 50 cm)

Luisa

2009-08-19T16:31:00.000+02:00

Luisa

(35 x 27 cm)

Moorish Mountain

2009-08-19T16:30:00.001+02:00

Moorish Mountain

(42 x 30 cm)

Me bull

2009-08-19T16:30:00.000+02:00

Me bull

My purple shoes

2009-08-19T16:29:00.000+02:00

My purple shoes

(52 x 50 cm)

Niña en la playa

2009-08-19T16:27:00.001+02:00

Niña en la playa

(38 x 26 cm)

Neighbor

2009-08-19T16:27:00.000+02:00

Neighbor

(46 x 38 cm)

Self portrait

2009-08-19T16:26:00.000+02:00

Self portrait

(55 x 56 cm)

Self Portrait New Year´s Eve

2009-08-19T16:23:00.000+02:00

Self Portrait New Year´s Eve

(55 x 52 cm)

Alayos

2009-08-12T21:15:00.001+02:00

Alayos

(55 x 38 cm)

Introduction 2007

2009-08-12T21:15:00.000+02:00

I wonder why I have to be so obsessive about painting? I would like to get my portfolio together and look for a gallery, but why I ask myself, do I have to be pushing myself to keep up with some non-existent timetable. Why am I fighting time? Time is my ally. I must learn to float like a cork in a river.

Knowing my own limitations makes me feel safe. My limits help me stay in my own life.

My time is full of the obvious conflicts, his illusions because he does not see me as I am but rather as he wants me to be. I do not have a studio now so it is hard to paint. I try to find harmony but we all clash while sharing the living space.

Today is one of those days when time gets away from me. Stimulated and over stimulated, perhaps. For many years I could not see past my own childhood traumas and dramas. I was envious when others spoke fondly of their early years. Now time has brought me to that same place in the mountain, I have already crossed the peak, and I stand here and look back with sweet regret.

Set up my new studio in the living room. I cannot wait any longer for studio space. I have to paint! So I do, all morning, starting with the Alayos Mountains and bullfighters with capes.

Float along like a cork in a river. June 2oth:Paint Papá, a few days later a great loss occurs.

Summer begins and all the little creatures run. Death is always just around the corner. I am afraid of a tiny mouse I saw run underneath the living room furniture. Explore space around head and techniques using glazes and the spatula.

Capea in the small southern town. Sleep in dusty bed over the horse stables. (Capea: amateur bullfight in small village square or private ranch). Drinking wine in bodega while the Spaniards sing flamenco and recite poetry. I read Nine Weeks with VanGogh and Gauguin.

My dog and cat pose all day long, each one of them plead innocence and ask for attention.

Alayos acrylic

2009-08-12T21:14:00.000+02:00

Alayos Acrylic

(42 x 30 cm)

Alayos mixed

2009-08-12T21:13:00.000+02:00

Alayos mixed

(42 x 30 cm)

Alayos watercolor II

2009-08-12T21:11:00.000+02:00

Alayos watercolor

(42 x 30 cm)

Alayos watercolor

2009-08-12T21:10:00.000+02:00

Alayos watercolor

(42 x 30 cm)

Backyard web

2009-08-12T21:09:00.000+02:00

Backyard web

(45 x 35 cm)

Big Alayos

2009-08-12T21:08:00.000+02:00

Big Alayos

(86 x 64 cm)

Hinto of Alayos

2009-08-12T21:06:00.000+02:00

Hint of Alayos

(35 x 27 cm)

Kiking up paper

2009-08-12T21:05:00.000+02:00

Kicking up paper

(56 x 45 cm)

Moor Mountain

2009-08-12T21:04:00.000+02:00

Moor Mountain

(45 x 30 cm)

Moor Mountain II

2009-08-12T21:02:00.000+02:00

Moor Mountain II

(45 x 35 cm)

Sophie sofa paper

2009-08-12T21:00:00.000+02:00

Sophie Sofa Paper

(34 x 27 cm)

Suspiro del Moro

2009-08-12T20:59:00.000+02:00

Suspiro del Moro

(55 x 38 cm)

Suspiro del Moro watercolor

2009-08-12T20:58:00.000+02:00

Suspiro del Moro watercolor

(42 x 30 cm)

Two Alayos

2009-08-12T20:57:00.000+02:00

Two Alayos

(50 x 35 cm)

Two Alayos II

2009-08-12T20:55:00.000+02:00

Two Alayos II

(50 x 35 cm)

Introduction 2006

2009-08-11T11:52:00.002+02:00

Everything is lines. There are no lines. What lines? Expectations from others, where is the line? Transgressing and crossing boundaries.

I used to analyze…and think I needed to understand everything. Ignorance is bliss. Reading Maruja Mallo biography and return to the 1920´s.

Silent snowstorm while horseback riding in Santa Fé. I was painting, then suddenly got real sad and realized I was so cold I had to get up and leave the mysteries of color. I came upstairs to fret, about what? About what is done and what must be left undone

Hemingway says many things about Getrude Stein in A Moveable Feast. And still, A Rose is a Rose, is a Rose. And nada matters. Let the colors sink in, the browns, beige, tan, pinks and roses.

Lizard Brain Hyperactive. I paint, and cook fish for lunch, then paint and sweep the stairways at night. Painting a naked woman, all golden brown, pregnant, and hot in summer afternoon. Spanish dancers, Flamenco music, and Bullfights are always around and some paintings are out in shops and galleries. Severe pain when I receive the news from back home. And I start painting mountains. I don´t need to be understood.

Painting in the dungeon and it is very cold and wet. Paintings seem to thrive in that atmosphere. Dealing with the unfinished and letting go of wasteful fear. Dancing between time and space, then researching self-portraits with mirror effects and discover the National Portrait Gallery in London on line.

Start drawing Alayos Mountains. Paint teapots and olive trees. Color is vibration. Suspiro del Moro Mountain. The Moor´s Last Sigh Mountain.

I hurt myself when I thought I was looking for a way out of my pain. I love the tingle and sudden release, I love the peace of not belonging, of not needing, nor desire.

Alayos

2009-08-11T11:51:00.000+02:00

Alayos

(55 x 45 cm)

Alpujarra II

2009-08-11T11:49:00.000+02:00

Alpujarra II

(55 x 38 cm)

Alpujarra I

2009-08-11T11:47:00.000+02:00

Alpujarra I

(29 x 15 cm)

Cousin Jane

2009-08-11T11:44:00.000+02:00

Cousin Jane

(41 x 33 cm)

Flamenco dancer

2009-08-11T11:42:00.000+02:00

Flamenco Dancer

(70 x 61 cm)

Knitting women

2009-08-11T11:40:00.000+02:00

Knitting women

(40 x 28 cm)

Late for the dance

2009-08-11T11:39:00.000+02:00

Late for the dance

(55 x 46 cm)

Mesha and me

2009-08-11T11:37:00.000+02:00

Mesha and me

(45 x 30 cm)

Morante

2009-08-11T11:36:00.000+02:00

Morante

(40 x 30 cm)

My hand

2009-08-11T11:34:00.000+02:00

My hand

(30 x 20 cm)

My left hand

2009-08-11T11:33:00.000+02:00

My left hand

(30 x 20 cm)

Posing dancer

2009-08-11T11:29:00.000+02:00

Posing Dancer

(70 x 61 cm)

Sailboats Acrylics

2009-08-11T11:28:00.000+02:00

Sailboats Acrylics

(41 x 33 cm)

Sophia

2009-08-11T11:27:00.000+02:00

Sophia

(38 x 30 cm)

Suspiro del Moro

2009-08-11T11:26:00.000+02:00

Suspiro del Moro

(55 x 45 cm)

Veronica

2009-08-11T11:24:00.000+02:00

Veronica

(40 x 30 cm)

Women knitting

2009-08-11T11:18:00.000+02:00

Women knitting

(40 x 28 cm)

Introduction 2005

2009-08-10T09:13:00.001+02:00

We go to San Nicolas Church and I paint the Alhambra in acrylic en plein aire. I was tense.

Many things slide and fall and never get done. I must lower my expectations. The water bill was due two days ago. Think about triangles and circles.

All I can do is walk my own path, that is all that is required and to learn to love and accept it all. The wholeness:unity. I love as many ways as we all are. Paint the Alhambra on big piece of wood and more bulls.

Start the day with my mantra of Om Namah Shiva. All is well and all shall be well. Staining Sienna, vermillion,naples,azul ultramarine and a dash of cobalt blue.

The new club, lonely hearts club. I need time and space. Watch t.v. in English. Sorrolla Paintings at Gran Capitan Center. Reading Goya biography and Carmen Laffon.

Painting, and painting to make my way through all of this misunderstanding.

My husband and I have become friends again. We sit together like two old crows on a fence.

There is that story of the crow who spends all her time and energy pecking away at her shadow (the past) and eventually the shadow eats her up. What is the moral of my story? How do we teach our children morals that aren´t ours? Look ahead at the Future.

Painting Portrait of a Flamenco Dancer which then become two and go through many stages as recent lessons regarding color and stain and mirrors and music push and pull their way through my afternoons. Reading Dora Maar: With and without Picasso. Beautiful Catalan Pregnant Woman enters my life in the hot summer months she sits and poses . Girl Party Celebration.

Juan Gris Exhibit in Madrid and a smaller one of Antonio Saura downstairs at the Reina Sofia Museum, then visit San Fernando Escuela de Bellas Artes Museum.

I am working on the spaces between the objects, everything becomes one - deception and comprehension at the same time. There is no hurry to get anything done now. We may be living out of suitcases and boxes for a long time.

Alhambra I

2009-08-10T09:11:00.000+02:00

Alhambra I

(25 x 19 cm)

Alhambra II

2009-08-10T09:10:00.000+02:00

Alhambra II

(25 x 19 cm)

Blue Pears

2009-08-10T09:09:00.000+02:00

Blue Pears

(60 x 60 cm)

Bull 101

2009-08-10T09:08:00.000+02:00

Bull 101

(30 x 24 cm)

Bull 102

2009-08-10T09:06:00.000+02:00

Bull 102

(30 x 24 cm)

Dancer with carnation

2009-08-10T09:04:00.000+02:00

Dancer with Carnation

(55 x 46 cm)

Doodling

2009-08-10T09:03:00.000+02:00

Doodling

(30 x 21 cm)

My girl

2009-08-10T09:01:00.000+02:00

My Girl

(65 x 50 cm)

Self

2009-08-10T09:00:00.000+02:00

Self 2005

(33 x 24 cm)

Tea with green apples

2009-08-10T08:58:00.000+02:00

Tea with green apples

(41 x 33 cm)

Introduction 2004

2009-08-07T11:25:00.001+02:00

I am on intimate terms with me and my pain. Stuck in bed for two days with lumbago, I enjoy thinking about how the world goes on without me. I cannot move. It tires me just to get up and walk to the terrace.

We are all stuck in this same place and time, thinking about the future, years to come; incredulously getting to know each other through this thick space and time. Mysterious soul, when all is uncovered and said, I don´t want to become your illusion because I know you will convert me into your disillusion.

Fragmented like a mosaic, our lives are little pieces. Lady Di could be a heroine, or a model of goodness and grace. The only thing I know is that I don´t know anything ,which leaves me fairly vulnerable to whatever may come.

You organize it, give it shape, some color, a name, perhaps. You desire it, offer your life through trembling hands, you run from it, hide it, hate it, anguish over it, and then when you have gone and given up, you come back, accept it, and give it away.

It hurts like sandpaper across my breast, turpentine in my nose, and paint in my lungs.

My stains are here to stay. Stained woman, have no fear, everything is stained. We are sustained by columns hard and soft, the tree loses its leaves, my mind comes undone…

This noble human face. Bulls turn into Pink Goddesses and the sacrifice has been made.

Your words were stroking my bleak destiny, my fear of aging comes with its own Manual de Instrucciones.

Pure pleasure to witness one color lying next to another and the dark defining lines and empty space. The dirtiness of smoking vs the cleanliness of color.

Shuffle pieces around, put the moon here in the sky or over there in the river, through the trees or in the mirror. Interesting Perspectives: everything is connected. I am almost always on intimate terms with myself. We sacrifice sacred tendencies while we claim to be the superior species. Dali´s clocks tick away; the immigrants become ants, they rush towards the surreal time.

Moral Intimacy. Transparent: fine enough in texture to be seen through.

Crevice

2009-08-07T11:24:00.000+02:00

Crevice

(30 x 25 cm)

Dali´s clock

2009-08-07T11:23:00.000+02:00

Dali´s Clock

(65 x 54 cm)

Fernanda

2009-08-07T11:22:00.000+02:00

Fernanda

(131 x 97 cm)

Intimate

2009-08-07T11:21:00.000+02:00

Intimate

(30 x 24 cm)

Menopause

2009-08-07T11:20:00.000+02:00

Menopause

(50 x 50 cm)

Moral intimacy

2009-08-07T11:19:00.000+02:00

Moral intimacy

(25 x 20 cm)

Pink Goddess

2009-08-07T11:17:00.000+02:00

Pink Goddess

(100 x 65 cm)

Self portrait

2009-08-07T11:16:00.000+02:00

Self Portrait

(106 x 40 cm)

Stained woman

2009-08-07T11:13:00.000+02:00

Stained Woman

Introduction 2003

2009-08-06T11:28:00.001+02:00

Youth looks at the ederly and wonders why they do not take better care of themselves. I thought life would be easier by now but everything is sagging, seems to be all falling down. I cannot be ashamed of who I am even though I regret many of my actions. I am like the rest; we are all struggling every day of our lives, like insects and crawling creatures, we would like to be graceful and fly.

I know that nothing that I have is mine to keep. I am here to watch over it and appreciate all that lies within my reach. I want to walk my path but I realize I am more lost than ever before. We all want to be loved and yet we love so inadequately. We all want when giving could be so easy. Painting myself in the mirror, which is my right and which is my left side?

I went to church and was thinking about God and people. People always so dangerous. God, incomprehensible.

The strength and energy I need to paint leaves little time for other things, so much gets left undone. I saw a portrait of Rembrandt in an art book, the text said he was looking out with the same attitude, “where do I go from here?” There is no turning back. War rages on. I need to let go of the desire to paint, of anxiety about the unfinished paintings, chores, tasks, and life…how else can it be but unfinished?

In Andalucia, we go to bullfights, meet bullfighters and courageous matadors. Orange brown bull in hot sun. Vicente Barrera con muleta. Litri, Jose Tomás, Picador en Bilbao and Cristina Sanchez. The cat is sitting on the floor beneath my easel with a very understanding look on his face and the woman who lives across the street is vacuuming her balcony.

Lost again! So much space is frightening me! My work is often realist and figurative and then as my frustration with line and flat color builds up, the creative process becomes dry and almost academic. I get stuck and hold back on something essential because I do not know how to release it.

Hungry stomach. Hundreds of immigrants arrive each day. Cold hands, warm heart? Let´s go home…but where is it? The pressure is so intense; I am as untouchable as a feline. Everything spirals around my need to paint.

Painting well, and then suffering from insecurities and indecision. It is not only if I am good enough or if I have anything to say or contribute, of course I do. I wonder about my intentions and motives?

The space is there and time passes minute by slow minute. Paint through poverty. A woman and an egg. Color equals emotion, their laws are the same.

Painting going well; keep moving past fear of the unknown, keep the faith and work. Sometimes it all seems too easy and then I worry about outcomes and themes which do not interest me now, but they occasionally arrive in obsessive fashion at my door. Nevermore, said the Raven.

A woman and an egg

2009-08-06T11:27:00.000+02:00

A Woman And An Egg

(84 x 45 cm)

Athlete

2009-08-06T11:25:00.000+02:00

Athlete

(110 x 50 cm)

Blue bull V

2009-08-06T11:24:00.000+02:00

Blue Bull V

(50 x 30 cm)

Colorado in hot

2009-08-06T11:23:00.000+02:00

Colorado In Hot

(80 x 65 cm)

Indian girl

2009-08-06T11:22:00.000+02:00

Indian Girl

(90 x 75 cm)

Manu

2009-08-06T11:21:00.000+02:00

Manu

(45 x 35 cm)

Matador Bacon

2009-08-06T11:20:00.000+02:00

Matador Bacon

(50 x 30 cm)

Purple Tea

2009-08-06T11:18:00.000+02:00

Purple Tea

(50 x 30 cm)

Self portait in pink

2009-08-06T11:17:00.000+02:00

Self portait in pink

(52 x 36 cm)

Spring

2009-08-06T11:16:00.000+02:00

Spring

(62 x 45 cm)

Summer

2009-08-06T11:14:00.000+02:00

Summer

(62 x 45 cm)

Two trees

2009-08-06T11:13:00.000+02:00

Two Trees

(30 x 24 cm)

Unicorn

2009-08-06T11:11:00.000+02:00

Unicorn

(30 x 24 cm)

Vicente Barrera

2009-08-06T11:08:00.000+02:00

Vicente Barrera

(81 x 60 cm)

Introduction 2002

2009-08-05T18:45:00.001+02:00

Space and Time evolving into Line and Mass or visa versa.

Nothing is pure anymore. Everything is contaminated and middle age is all about dealing with contamination, mine and that of the others. The existentialists talked about “I and the other”….Artist and the model. Mirror exercises.

“I” can be so divided, complex, and confusing. Binary opposites. Impressionists and Expressionists. Modern, post modern, realists and abstract painters. Surrealists and classical, groups and individuals. Replica of life: no man is an island. We are all mixed up together.

My mirrors are all cloudy. There is anger in the air. I am sick in bed without a care. Selling teapot paintings in the Albaicin. Painting the Peru Figures and Any Woman with a Pain in her Left Breast. Lying around in bed reading the newspaper, hoping to cure myself.

Resistance again: Face the wall and remain seated. See what happens, then. Stains, lines, stains, lines; figure form depth. Surface, lines, wrinkles, buildings, death.

Life is so perfect, it is scary. Painting the Kourous Man, he is stone cold; and The Toro Saliendo del Toril, the wild beast flaming with energy.

TIME and SPACE: my cowardly response to the needs of others, “leave me alone!” Sacrifice and reward. Sticks and stones may break my bones……

COLOURS AND MEMORY: You are so intelligent, you bring me down. I can´t remember a name or a town. Black, I am even keel; you do not see anything, but shadows and depth. White, all air and light. Yellow comes flushing in, followed by green drops, and burgundy wine on a winter´s day. Red, so mesmerizing and bloody, blue to cool my whispering mother; brown, a stain I couldn´t do without, orange loves fun, it´s bright, it´s done. Another gray day.

BEYOND TIME AND SPACE: I am fighting against them and what I really want is to be one, with them. Two concepts which control my life obsessively. We all crave that which is our very existence. –

Leaving one culture, one world space, and coming into another is an absorbing task,like being between magnets, both the South and North Pole pull you. I flew east and the day moved west and we met each other half-way across the Atlantic Ocean. Was it day or night?

Back home the phone got cut off and the electricity bill is overdue. Breathing does not come as naturally as one expects: headaches, teeth problems, broken glasses, and a whole lot of money I owe now.

TIME: My enemy? Not me. I am not running; I am with the leaves on the trees. It came, it is here, it is gone. It is never mine. It is all the time. It is not my friend, yet I know her well, she is always here with me, inescapable, unavoidable, undeniably, unintentionally, uncontrollably mine.

I don´t have any more lemon yellow and the paints are drying up on the palette. Accumulation. All of this, too, shall pass.

Afgano

2009-08-05T18:44:00.000+02:00

Afgano

(135 x 90 cm)

Any woman with a paint in her left breast

2009-08-05T18:43:00.000+02:00

Any woman with a paint in her left breast

(55 x 36 cm)

Cat and bird

2009-08-05T18:42:00.000+02:00

Cat and Bird

(30 x 25 cm)

Kourous

2009-08-05T18:41:00.000+02:00

Kourous

(35 x 24 cm)

Man and woman

2009-08-05T18:40:00.000+02:00

Man and Woman

(35 x 24 cm)

Man and woman sitting down

2009-08-05T18:38:00.000+02:00

Man and Woman Sitting Down

(40 x 40 cm)

Peruvian figures

2009-08-05T18:36:00.000+02:00

Peruvian Figures

(34 x 25 cm)

Roman copy

2009-08-05T18:34:00.000+02:00

Roman Copy

(35 x 24 cm)

Toro saliendo

2009-08-05T18:30:00.000+02:00

Toro Saliendo

(60 x 40 cm)

Introduction 2001

2009-08-04T11:57:00.001+02:00

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.

Colorado in green

2009-08-04T11:56:00.000+02:00

Colorado in Green

(30 x 21 cm)