Description:

Like every good drinking song, this painting is a story of woe. Or, perhaps it's a lyrical poem without rhyme or reason. Hmm.

Either way, the music is intended to be heard in the sounds of your own heartbeat.

So, in true surrealist fashion... the story (spontaneously) goes like this...

Can you see the pain on display

from beginning to end

of something that never was

or could be

still held at knifepoint,

'til you look away

moving on,

while the song plays on

And...

can you see the bottle next to Her

the one she drank while hanging around

impaled by a thought

that there was something more

more than a shadow,

and more than an unsatisfied appetite

moving on,

while the song plays on

(snapping and whistling commences, before repeating)

Anyway. I'm really just being silly here (because I can, and because the work is more than my profession.)

So, in truth... this bizarre scene is a metaphorical self portrait; technically, a depiction of me in my happy place... even if the image doesn't seem very happy on the surface.

What you have to realize here is that during the creative process, I am always behind the canvas, sitting comfortbaly at my easel. But, in this instance, I am also portrayed in the half-sleeping, half-astrally-projected subject whose awareness is split in two directions.

One aspect of me is lost in thought, or in weary pensiveness, which is directed inward (like exploring a cave).

And, the other part of me is exploring potential narratives from an exalted state within consciousness, recording the immediate impressions that the wounded me is processing and have been interpreted by the imagination (unfolding across the surface of this painting), which then enables me to pick and choose what comes next... when, and how.