Letters to an Imaginary Friend (2009-2011)
Click the thumbnails to see a larger version of the painting.
I'm in that place again. Remember the one? I told you about it on that too-warm summer day in Vermont, the last time we were together.
The Existential Crack, Marcelo, where I am down in something dark, and I can see high above me on either side, meaning, a purpose. But where I am: nothing.
Marcelo, I am going to try and climb out, again. What else can I do? So long as I am breathing, I can create – and perhaps through creating, I can build meaning, even out of nothing. I'll paint some gnarly portraits, write some brief notes, put it together under the innocuous title of "Letters" and dedicate it to you – you, who always understood my predicament.
Maybe in these marks on paper and canvas, I can begin to discover some meaning. Maybe something will come out of it. It's the only way.
And anyway, isn’t that what God did? Existing as a solitary power, condemned for all eternity to being and nothingness, God created all of this out of desperation. That's what they say, at least – And what is art but an echo of this original act?