Roots – Oil/Masonite – 36 x 48 inches.
In the world above the clouds strange visions sometimes appear.
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“I wouldn’t worry about it none, though.
Them old dreams, they’re only in your head.”
(Bob Dylan. “Talkin’ World War III Blues.” 1963)
Of course, that’s not Bob Dylan talking but the psychiatrist, who declares the boy insane.
The wonderful thing about your paintings, art in general, I suppose, is that the impossible can be made real. Unlike a dream “only in your head,” an image can be made as tangible, as anything you might see with your eyes, undeniably true. “Roots” seems compelling in this respect for several reasons. One is its size. Three feet by four feet is a big painting, and it must be impressive to experience it directly and not just through a computer screen. It also contains, or maybe retains, a dreamlike quality that renders it possible and impossible at the same time. It’s like I want to shake my head then see if the vision clears or maybe even disappears, but neither happens. The painting is still there, still challenging the viewer to accept seeing the impossible: mountains into roots, roots into mountains, trees above the clouds, alignment of spheres. No, not just “in your head,” but right square in front of you. You’re not insane. What you see is what is.