Like many people, I often have dreams of flying. They invariably induce feelings of ecstasy. I dart and swoop through the clouds, dancing with crows and hawks, sometimes even condors. One day I began to wonder if, instead of waiting for night and sleep, I could create dreams in daytime while I was still awake. With practice I was gradually able to visualize myself hovering several feet above my body. Seeing yourself in two places at the same time is unnerving at first. But gradually it feels normal. Although I was able to increase my altitude above my self, I could only hover, like a helicopter, never able to fly freely and play with other birds.
One morning I was driving from my studio in San Francisco to a temporary job in Oakland when I realized that I was not behind the steering wheel of my truck, but was several hundred feet above the freeway looking down at my pickup driving blissfully through morning traffic. Fortunately I was immediately able to return to the driver’s seat without causing any trouble for other drivers or myself.
After that incident, I became more cautious about projecting myself. I painted “Sierra Moon” from a few thousand feet while I was still in my studio. I wanted to render the scene as realistically as possible: our lovely satellite, reflecting the light of the sun, a river of clouds with the Sierra Nevada and California farmland below. No freeways, no suburbs, no strip malls.
The moon is a goddess, so I later changed the title to Selene, her name given by the Greeks. From 239,000 miles away, the power of her presence raises and lowers the immense tonnage of oceans, controls menstrual cycles, the growth of plants and other rhythms of Life.
Lately I don’t often project myself into the sky. When I do, she is always with me.