Creating art for me is more like unveiling the story that somehow mirrors, discloses, challenges or explains my thoughts or Self at a particular point in life.  Most of my art is a timeline of thoughts, events, emotions, visions, witnessings, knowledge I gained, fantasies or dreams and the majority of my paintings,  say 95%, have deeper meanings than I ever disclose.  If anything, a large portion of my artwork is a window into my unconscious mind and sometimes it’s easy to go in there while other times it’s difficult — especially right after an art show. I don’t need depression time but I do need decompression time!

Tatiana von Tauber
Now that the art show is over

our secrets

February 14, 2019

After each night we are emptier: our mysteries and our grief’s have leaked away into our dreams. Thus sleep’s labour not only diminishes the power of our thought, but even that of our secrets.

E.M. Cioran
A Short History of Decay

Magic & Poetry

February 1, 2019

Because dreams do have something to do with magic, and I believe in magic as the main source of poetry. We create entire worlds in our dreams – full of people we’ve never seen, places we’ve never been to – that seem to echo and reverberate with worlds and memories that we’ve never experienced.

Orson Welles
This is Orson Welles

walk naked

January 25, 2019

I want your mouth to taste of me, and for me to be able to walk naked through your dreams

whispers

January 17, 2019

She hangs in the shadows of my dreams
And whispers…

Johnny Hollow
Alibi

dreams

January 12, 2019

I dreamed all sorts of funny dreams – dreams with you in them all the time, and terrible ticking clocks, and vampires, and ladies with long arms putting out the light, and intimate black dogs just sitting on us. I love you. I love you more than anybody in the world. I love you for millions and millions of things, clocks and vampires and lovely hair and being dizzy and falling dreams. I want you to be with me; you can teach me to walk in the air and I’ll teach you to make nice noises on the piano without any music; and we shan’t have any money at all and we’ll live on other people’s, which they won’t like a bit. I don’t care. I don’t care for anybody. I only want to tell you all the time and over and over again that I love you.

Dylan Thomas

July 1936 letter to Caitlin Macnamara

 

the unattainable

January 6, 2019

Dreams, memories, the sacred – they are all alike in that they are beyond our grasp. Once we are even marginally separated from what we can touch, the object is sanctified; it acquires the beauty of the unattainable, the quality of the miraculous. Everything, really, has this quality of sacredness, but we can desecrate it at a touch. How strange man is! His touch defiles and yet he contains the source of miracles.

Yukio Mishima
Spring Snow

knows nothing

November 25, 2018

During the day he knows nothing but dreams. During the day he knows only the lethargy the white,  billowing curtain and the humming fan give him as a kind of comfort.  At night he’s wakeful. At night he knows only the loneliness that lies down beside him in the bed and keeps him awake.

Tomas Espedal
Bergeners
translated by James Anderson

sum of our dreams

September 13, 2018

sky trees and sea

Books are not only the arbitrary sum of our dreams, and our memory. They also give us the model of self-transcendence. Some people think of reading only as a kind of escape: an escape from the “real” everyday world to an imaginary world, the world of books. Books are much more. They are a way of being fully human.

I’m sorry to have to tell you that books are now considered an endangered species. By books, I also mean the conditions of reading that make possible literature and its soul effects. Soon, we are told, we will call up on “bookscreens” any “text” on demand, and will be able to change its appearance, ask questions of it, “interact” with it. When books become “texts” that we “interact” with according to criteria of utility, the written word will have become simply another aspect of our advertising-driven televisual reality. This is the glorious future being created, and promised to us, as something more “democratic.” Of course, it means nothing less than the death of inwardness – and of the book.

Susan Sontag
Letter to Borges

inward dreamings

September 6, 2018

All life is only a set of pictures in the brain, among which there is no difference betwixt those born of real things and those born of inward dreamings, and no cause to value the one above the other.

H.P. Lovecraft
The Silver Key