In this video I talk about my motivation for the next painting in my self portrait identity series titled PHOENIX. I am doing the underworking of the orange paint layer which represents the phoenix fire within underneath the surface of myself and my life. I show footage of my time kayaking in Biscayne Bay and around Florida which has been part of my healing process as well as a time of self claiming and clearing of past wounds. This clearing is from my own life and from my understanding of my ancestral history and the traumas that have been passed down through the many lifetimes which make me now. The meaning of the fire is that my will and life force resurges now to fight off that which could have claimed it. This portrait represents a dream I had for my self actualization which now means all the more as I return to it to pick up the pieces and put them together once again. To pull back my fragments, and put me together once again.
As I paint, I find that the painting starts to in a sense paint itself. The final goal I have planned to be refined and technically striking, without becoming stiff and flat as most technical realist paintings can become. A storm of fire lives beneath. One cannot put a finger on it. It cannot be reached by the outside looking into, or at, me. I know the soul beneath, what makes that glow? It isn’t just a “glow up”, but a flame. Defiance, resilience, pain, a demand for justice, inherent right, unquantifiable worth. Vulnerability, insecurity, confide-ance, unshakable authority, inheritance, invention. Ancient, new, formed a million times before, and yet unmatched, singular, still a Mystery never unraveled. I strike my own steel.
I play lower chakra healing subliminal music, summon the teachings, the Lion’s Breath, move the Womb chords, meditate on the weaving of my Self into Things. Fire, light, break the hardened places, press the knots, unearth the stifled tears, poison, snake, release me with your dance, rock my spine Kundalini. Earth, song, bird call your chorus with my voice in the morning. The Goddess in the Garden is smiling. She plucks her fruit and raises Her spear for me. She tosses it to my hand. Drink. Thanking, thanking, thanking everything. Hide it there, what is too profound and simple for them to understand, this is why you do not understand sex, why you fail in your duty, to me, to yourself. What is too simple for you to recognize, my motives. You paint me with your dirty complications, that is why I must bathe in the river. Alone. All one. I am the Keeper, where we are sane together, in the lyrical silences. Waiting, for you? No, actually, you can remove that reference point now, unman it, un-name it, thank you very much. Sorry, oh, wait, right, that’s right, I’m not sorry. I forgot, again. Brainwash me away. Have you got a clu yet? Keys, Keys! I am the Keeper of the- oh! KEYS! Oh, Florida, my home and native land…
Orchid, Lady, show me myself. Silence, breaking of dawn, like coming into orbit. Star light, star bright, restore me to my right this night, accept the deep well of inky holding as embrace.
When I made my escape, escapade, I camped next to the river. I made a fire the second night, it took that long to outrun all the noise of the world and have the quiet finally seep in. I could hear it then. The sound of the silences, all the hidden gentle things. I cooked my meal, I pondered, I prayed. Then the fire spent itself down, and the embers began their talk. Fire bird, crocodile, Bird Man. Man Bird. Fire walking. Walk About.
Sometimes a bit of water added to the flame is just enough to make the flame burn higher. The river gave that to me. Cooling down the “Too Much”.
ACTIVATION. That is what it is. Weave me together with pine needles, Pinus Elliottii variation densa. Melt me down my gold drips out. No matter how you shape it still it stays untarnished. Fly, butterfly. It is a sign just for you. Feel the smile of the invisible. With you I AM well pleased. Memory. Fern, wash shade, Fennel. Run down the gully as fast as you can! Don’t look back. Never. Never say never. Unless it is for Neverland…
YOU ARE FREE. At least, as much as you can stand to be. Or maybe it is what you have to take a stand for. Never let them tell you otherwise.
Be wise. And never stop dreaming.
REACH. Give it all you’ve got.
Rest. Feel your own space again. There are all the answers, and the questions you always needed.
As the paint builds, snake dance, fire tongue to head of bird, slice of yellow, refraction in sun, there it is, elusive, showing up on its own, the PHOENIX. Cloud, storm, heat, lifting its wings, field of orange. Fly upward, onward, then calling, hungry, for legs. Bird Man Walker. I oblige. Pushing, pulling, purple, burnt umber, form settles, and finally, the brush rests.
For now.
