Imagine a space that has no size, taste or smell, nor dimension to any sound. It’s beyond the realm of our comprehension; a mirage that exists yet vanishes at the same time. There is a fine line that separates our comfortable world from the abyss. You can easily cross the line, but the return path is much more complex. The abyss often masquerades itself as art.
My artistic career came to an abrupt halt when my son was born, given that oil fumes were dangerous to the baby. This sabbatical ended up lasting seven years, during which time I immersed myself in a “normal” life. My ordinary routines were capsized when I unexpectedly reunited with an old friend. His art professor pronounced my work as “genius,” and it was that declaration that triggered my impulse to paint again. The very next day, I crossed the line into The Abyss. Gathering my painting supplies, I confronted the easel for the first time in years. Although my hands remembered everything, I encountered a sense of fear and pain. It took one tormented year to learn “how to walk” again. Paintings are born out of nothingness; they possess you and dash themselves onto the canvas. The artist’s craft is simply to listen and obey. The Abyss was originally intended to be the first of four in its series. I vow to finish the remaining three canvases – if not in this life, then in the one to come.