A River of Trees

The first few drops began to fall on Tuesday evening, the 10th of September. During the following three days the skies opened and rain fell in torrents on the Mediterranean Coast. Now it’s Saturday and the rains have stopped. Valencia seems to have been spared from the worst damage, but outside the city and along the coast south towards Murcia, dams and walls have collapsed, thousands of people have been displaced, crops are drowned under chocolate-colored lakes created by the floods, innumerable houses have been destroyed and six people have died, two swept away in their cars. It was awful to watch the video on the news, the cars tumbling like toys in the muddy waters, headlights still burning.

Read More

Crazy ‘Bout an Automobile

Every woman I know is crazy ’bout an automobile

Ry Cooder

For people who live in other parts of the world, one of the many baffling aspects of American life –- aside from, among other things, its racism, its prudishness about sex, and its tolerance of violence — is the fetishizing of The Automobile. Men tend to be even crazier about automobiles than women, and the names of cars often reflect aggressive masculinity: Gladiator, Roadmaster, Rampage, Cutlass, Marauder, Mustang, Cobra, Ram, Bronco… the list goes on. During my adolescence, the car of my dreams was no less than a Rocket 88. Alas, I was unable to afford one. This was probably good fortune and a guardian angel at work.

Read More

The Gods of Gravity: A Story

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!

A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.

D.H. Lawrence

Not long ago, the owner of a gallery in which I wanted to be represented visited my studio. She had a discerning eye, a successful gallery, and I respected her judgment. To my dismay, however, her verdict on many of my paintings was this: “Miguel, I love your Imagination and these dream-like paintings are mysterious and beautiful. The problem is, I have no idea how to sell them.”

She was right, of course, dreams are strange. They may be real and compelling to me, but why should anyone else have any interest in them?

And yet, and yet, the wind blows….

Read More