Leaving Home

I left the City of Green Fire. I didn't know I'd left it because its imprint is indelible. I remember its warm cobblestones. I always walked barefoot there. Actually I didn't wear any clothes at all, yet never felt naked. Was it completely safe? No, but the parameters of its possibilities were so much an extension of me that I didn't feel any more fear than the usual nightmare or beautiful dream. Did it break my heart. I'm sure. But that seems a daily surgery once the hood is lifted, and light pours in. How do I know I'm not still there? Recently someone made a comment about City of Green Fire, saying it is a painting about gestation. Simultaneously I am working on a large collage/painting on paper. Unlike what I usually do I started with no image in mind. I tore up some maps and an old physics book and began to glue pieces, paint, and draw. Sometimes when I work the emotions of the period are very strong and they get purposely mixed in with the making, even if the picture is relatively subdued or, as in this case, mostly abstract. This time this is true and also I'm working without a template. It's pure wing-it. The familiar creatures of the City aren't here. There is no writing on the wall and no wall of green fire. I'm in the illuminated place of action?/no-action? Every time I make a mark, glue a piece of old equation or a bit of archipelago I drift in another direction. The ripples go out and impact everywhere. Of course this is true all of the time but I'm not usually so acutely aware. The City walls, tunnels, arches, and bridges to nowhere are no longer there to echo back my location.
I'll send you a postcard...

City of Green Fire conversation

My friend Vincent Czyz sent me this:

Here's an exchange between a friend of mine (Christine) living in Holland, and a little from me about your fabulous painting.

CHRISTINE: > The painting is quite impressive color wise...

ME: Oh NO. The colors are not nearly as good on the website. You should see it in person. I want to buy it ... it's only $10,000.

C: Well, if I am impressed by the colors now, I'd probably even be more intrigued in person. And yes, I know how much the internet can morph the look of actual paint. I remember Blue Dog, color-wise, in person was much more impressive than anything seen on the net.

This painting is colorfully intense, symbolic, and feminine ...no wonder you like it!

Hard to make out all > of the images though. Seahorse, Sphinx, and Patron of Roses.
Taking my time to look at it closer..., Christine.

ME: Yes, fun stuff.

The entire painting has feminine curves of all types in most images. Also tons and tons of pairings -- Pair of wings, shadows, falling water, breasts, goldfish [koi], roses, reflections, all odd kinds of symmetry....even the woman seems divided into two parts. And undoubtedly, the symbolism is going to be paired too.


I looked up what the symbolism may mean...interesting....Enjoy the reflections, while I keep looking. Christine....


seahorse represents:

The Ancient Greeks and Romans believed the seahorse was an attribute of the sea god Neptune/Poseidon and as such, the seahorse was considered a symbol of strength and power
Chinese cultures believed that the seahorse was a type of sea dragon, and as such they were revered for their power and thought to be symbols of good luck.
ancient Europeans believed that the seahorse carried the souls of deceased sailors to the underworld - giving them safe passage and protection until the met their soul’s destination.
are symbolic of patience and contentment - they are happy with being where they are, and are in no hurry for advancement.
However, along with a resistance to change, and a carefree approach to progress, the seahorse can be a symbol of inflexibility or stubbornness. To wit, the seahorse wraps its tail around the nearest object in order to anchor itself in turbulent waters. This is a lesson to be persistent in our goals, but be mindful that we are not too inflexible or stubborn in our achieving them.
Eyesight of seahorses are incredibly sharp, pay attention, and take a good look around psychically and spiritually

Sphinx

The Sphinx is said to have guarded the entrance to the Greek city of Thebes, and to have asked a riddle of travelers to allow them passage.

The exact riddle asked by the Sphinx was not specified by early tellers of the stories, and was not standardized as the one given below until late in Greek history.[4]

Stages of man riddle

Patron Saint of Roses:
The rose is thought to represent God's love for Rita and Rita's ability to intercede on behalf of lost causes or impossible cases.

Rita is often depicted holding roses or with roses nearby.

On her feast day, churches and shrines of St. Rita provide roses to the congregation that are blessed by priests during Mass.
koi fish symbolize -perseverance in adversity and strength of purpose

Symbolic in the Buddhism to represent courage. Humans "swim" through the "ocean of suffering" without fear, just like a fish swims through water.

The Koi is symbolic with family. On Children's Day Koi flags are raised: Black Koi, the father; Orange/Red, the mother; Blue/White for a boy; and red/pink for a girl.

There is another word to describe "love" which is "koi". The kanji character for "kokoro (heart)" is included as part of both kanji characters. Both "ai" and "koi" are probably translated as "love" in English. However, they have slightly different nuance: "Koi" is a love for the opposite sex, or a longing feeling for a specific person. It can be described as "romantic love" or "passionate love". While "ai" has the same meaning as "koi," it also has a definition of a general feeling of love. "Koi" can be selfish, but "ai" is a real love. Here are some lines that explain them well: Koi is always wanting. Ai is always giving."

Jungle Island at Night

This is an imaginary place I often painted. Not unlike City of Green Fire, it maintains permanent real estate in my mind. I have a yearning to go back to dreamy places. There is a landscape brewing, and I have been collecting peripheral images to encourage it.

Richard's Show

The other rainy, cold, night I went to an opening of my friend, Richard Nonas, over at Lemmons Contemporary, 11 Harrison Street. Richard's sculptures were on the floor and across the walls. The wall pieces are very small and, dare I say, cuddly. They are minimal in their parentage, but humanist in their metal and wood hearts. Another painter that I was talking to said that he was covetous of them. I completely understood. I wanted to take one home, where I could hang it on the wall and have daily conversations with it. And yet they are just hunks of metal or wood that have been bumped together or somewhat carved out. They are easy to look at but deeply thoughtful.
In the very front of the gallery was a large metal floor piece, as though a slice of dark lake had been delivered there. Here it is being craned to the gallery:

all photos by Jan Meissner







I'm an illusionist, narrative painter interested in epiphanies. I tend to put in everything and the kitchen sink (or studio chandelier as in The City of Green Fire). But I love to see the vision in others, especially when it is honed so close to the naked source as Richard's.

Evening in NYC

Its like spring. It happens almost every year--but usually in February--this sudden insertion of warmth in the middle of cold. Its a soft stone set in the metal of winter.
Tonight I went to the upper west side to meet two friends for dinner. We talked about my friend's new book, which hasn't been published yet. In it are allusions to one of my paintings (City of Green Fire) mixed in with visions and dreams of a garbage dump. It sounds odd, but is beautifully strange and appropriate.
He always says that art is a disproportionate act. I have found him to be accurate.

Dream Gods & city origins

This is the second painting in the series. Above it is the painting that contains the same city that is sillouetted in its background.
Now we are among the catspiders themselves, rather than hovering in the aerial sweet spot. Time has happened, allowing me to go nuts with sunset, clouds and reflections. The river has become a lake, probably a pause in its impulse to journey. The city comes from the older painting, also based on a dream, called : City of Green Fire. In the course of their narrative outside my sleep, the catspiders and alter-self have transversed the geography of another escaped story. There is another version of myself in the green fire city as the Patron Saint of Roses. She takes roses and turns them into pink fish who swim in the lucent lime air. This is just what artists do. Take one thing and make it into another. The alchemy of dreams into flesh (or the illusion through dirt-in-oil), thought into pattern, words into symbols. The great joy of making marks.