Three Little Buddhas

Twilight in the green foothills of the Sierra Nevada. Beads of rain trickle down the windows of the studio. An iron-colored sky fades into a cold night. It’s the middle of the month of May, but winter has returned. So why does it feel like the world is on fire?

Read More

The Witnesses

In 1817, in a letter to a friend, John Keats wrote, ” I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart’s affections and the truth of Imagination.” Two hundred and two years later, in this afflicted world–our world–his two affirmations continue to offer insight, and hope.

Read More

Padre Nuestro

“Here I come the invisible man, perhaps in the employ

of some huge Memory that wants to live at this moment

from December Evening, ’72, by Tomas Tranströmer

Like many artists, I’ve sometimes wondered why I choose to paint one subject rather than another. What makes a particular street corner or a certain flower attractive, but not a different one? Some years ago in Madrid, on a rainy November afternoon, a surprising answer presented itself. I was walking in the Botanical Gardens, admiring the falling leaves. There was no one else around and the hum of city traffic gradually fell silent. What triggered the epiphany I don’t remember; perhaps it was only rainfall and the colors of trees. But I suddenly realized that, with most paintings, I didn’t choose the subject at all; the subject chose me.

Read More