What follows are the noted stream of thoughts and dialogue
noted while working on this painting. 

Calurosa – Las nubes desaparecieron y el tiempo se puso caluroso. The clouds dispersed and the weather turned warm. And so did my emotions.

I could not escape the way I was feeling and it filled the surface. A powerful wave. I touched the oil stick and connected. “Your fingers are sore,” I reminded myself to slow down. “No!” she said looking back. “There are colors here.” What? “There is me here,” she said, “Tell me.” What?

“I am unsure of what this electricity is and I am a little frightened by your questions,” I said. Light on. Click. Light on.Click. Light on.Click. I hope you will believe me when I tell you this is all intuition. I did not approach the paper with any purpose other than to reveal. I did not know I would find myself.

What are we to believe? These are just advertisements ripped and torn next to the whish of the Paris Metro. We’re underground. It’s cold and raining above us. Safe here. Well, sort-of safe. She keeps telling people to pull the papers. “Not there. Yes, there.” Brushing fingers. Dust and dirt cling. Paper rolls in dampness. Pull a strip win a prize. No one is stopping to hear. Just me standing there with my camera. Snap. Now you are on my wall in Mexico City. I am standing in front of you touching the surface. “I know you want to pick up that dark blue you always start with, but…,” she said as I reached for the deep red. Touch. Here we go.

It seems perfectly crazy and somewhat lovely to remind myself that I was breathing with her. Sometimes dancing. Emotions. Happy. Sad. Longing. Lonely. Blissful. Sad. Exuberation. Breathing slowly. Falling forward. Sitting down. Stand up and let’s dance to this one. Ok. Back to the surface. I am playing. You look so sad but there is also so much joy here. I know the past is like that. In the moment of a song you are there and then it ends and you are here. I feel that. I know you remember him too. I guess we have to agree this is what happens when you live life. Pain punctured with glowing happiness…and then pain. Layers. Stories. Memories. Past. Present. Future? No let’s agree to stay here for the moment. A border. She just wants you to see her.

Do you see?