"Absence cools moderate passions, and inflames violent ones; just as the wind blows out candles, but kindles fires."

François, Duc De La Rochefoucauld (1613-1680)

"It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love. . . his most sympathetic opponent in chess, had escaped the torments of memory with the aromatic fumes of gold cyanide."

Love in the Time of Cholera ~
Gabriel Garica Marquez

I have always been fascinated with dictionary pictures . . . the hard dark lines that image language. I am especially fond of the accompanying notations that flit about the drawing; (a) e. See. . . References to parts of a whole (1 - 7 with a legend below). Black and White/Stark and Bold; clear delineation. But there is also the vivid flush and hue; cream atop the milk; blush on the cheek.

el ángel caído - Sueño de una tarde dominical en la Alameda Central

Sueño de una tarde dominical en la Alameda Central or A Dream of a Sunday afternoon in Alameda Park...is a wonderful video created by members of el ángel caído collective. The piece combines images from Diego Rivera's mural, Sueño de una tarde . . . . with the Amparo Ochoa's song "La maldición de Malinche" or Curse of Malinche.

The hotel where the mural was house was damaged during the earthquakes that struck Mexico City 15 months ago, killing thousands of people and destroying hundreds of buildings. The hotel came close to collapsing and has been closed ever since, but the mural survived with only a few tiny cracks. Mural Moved 100 Yards. Efforts are currently underway to move the mural.

"Adoration is a form of face to face. When the compulsion to adoration grows less, or merely changes, unless the change is complete, the face changes and, in the case of a face at which one has looked for a long time, changes that are slight may appear to the observer to be melodramatic. We struggle with the face, see it everywhere & try to express the changes. In the depths of concentration the whole thing disappears. '' Wallace Stevens

The end suddenly arrived; unnoticed and unsolicited. It brought with it the usual mourning of what was...or wasn't. By coincidence, a friend sent the above lines from Stevens that provided no solace, but some understanding.

My work leans towards the autobiographical. My camera provides the raw material which I process with drawing, paint, and collage. I love collage because it allows randomness. I begin with an image or object and react to it with paint, pencil, or glue. I pause, rework, cut, glue again, more paint, re-photograph, re-collage, scan and rework. I peel and sandwich. The image lies on top of its arrangement, not behind in its conception.

Luis Buñuel in his autobiography, My Last Sigh, recalls a visit with his aged mother who no longer recognizes him. He ruminates about memory “…You have to begin to lose your memory, if only in bits and pieces, to realize that memory is what makes our lives. Life without memory is no life at all, just as intelligence without the possibility of expression is not really intelligence. Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our feeling even our action. Without it we are nothing.”