Several of the older entries, not immediately evident on this page, are equally representative of my work, so please explore the postings from March, as well as more recent additions.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Welcome to Designing for the Revolution
Several of the older entries, not immediately evident on this page, are equally representative of my work, so please explore the postings from March, as well as more recent additions.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Our Lady of The Times
1. Viva! Acrylics on Canvas,
Granada, 2007
2. "Spanish Muse" Acrylics on Canvas,
Spring 2007
3. "Our Lady of the Times"Spray Paint, Acrylics on Canvas
Ojai, August 2007
Influenced by Andalusia
Friday, March 28, 2008
Blake Project
Current William Blake Project entitled "Visualizing the Vortex"
A series of six water colour "prints" emulating Blake's work, with an eye towards illustrating the complexities of his more psychological concepts--the nebulous "vortex"
1. My reinterpretation of Blake's Book of Urizen, Plate 15
2. My imagined "Psyche" or "The Traveler Thru Eternity"
To the Eyes of the Man of imagination, Nature is imagination itself.
As a man is, So he Sees. As the Eye is formed, such are its powers.
You certainly Mistake when you say visions of fancy are not to be found in This World
-William Blake in a letter to Dr. Trusler
1. My reinterpretation of Blake's Book of Urizen, Plate 15
2. My imagined "Psyche" or "The Traveler Thru Eternity"
To the Eyes of the Man of imagination, Nature is imagination itself.
As a man is, So he Sees. As the Eye is formed, such are its powers.
You certainly Mistake when you say visions of fancy are not to be found in This World
-William Blake in a letter to Dr. Trusler
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Wild Articulations Ojai, August 2007
Futurist Manifesto
Stanford, Spring 2007
On a bus from Salamanca to Valladolid, an old woman sat by my side for two hours. In a strange act of stranger's generosity, she shared with me the history of her family from 1925 to the present day, her story of the Civil War, her years of Tierra sin Pan, the rise and fall of Franco. It was an incredible narration. Siblings torn apart, families lost, years passed and years spent away from home. She had come to Salamanca for Easter, and as she said goodbye to me at the foothills of the mountain that led to her town, she kissed me on the cheek and pressed two easter eggs into my hands. Each was stained with the brown imprints of maple leaves, and the cracked and hollow shells felt fragile cradled in my awkward hands.
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