Sunday, April 24, 2011


All it takes is one look to cause brief delirium. I am talking about tulips, and the effect they have on an innocent eye. Okay, maybe I am too sensitive, especially since I am an artist and get easily intoxicated by color. But tulips have that WOW factor.

I was driving somewhere the other day and while rounding a bend in the road, a mass of tulips stood bright and gay in the traffic median and captured my attention. Just two weeks ago the area was bare, and I thought, how did they know to bloom? Flowers hold intelligence in their essence. The tulips bloomed in unison, not haphazardly.

I wonder how anyone disbelieves in God. Intelligence is everywhere and our minds are constantly busy deciphering it. We are continually dumbfounded by our surroundings, and only little by little unravel the mysteries to get at truth and discover the verities. In short, everything that exists has been created with intelligence. And when we consider the infinite vastness of space, as well as turning inward to see intelligence inside atoms, it is enough to make a being fall to his knees and bow his head before The One Who Is The Supreme Creator. (Also see my earlier blog: A Marvel)

While I was traveling in Europe, in Venice, Italy, I met a French woman and we became great friends. She is a professor of art and I am an artist, so despite some language barriers, we hit it off. I went to visit her in France, and then she came to Spain to visit me while I lived there. She is an intellectual and has written books about art. Her mind is keen and loves to engage in philosophy and psychology. While I believe in God, she is an avowed atheist and said that man creates God because man needs something to believe in. One morning when we were together, I spoke aloud and gave thanks for the beautiful day. She said, “Steven, you must thank yourself. You give the day to yourself.” I chuckled and then felt slightly inflamed. “How can you say that?” I retorted. “I did not create the sun that shines upon the earth. And I have not created the day in which I participate as witness and small actor on the stage.”

Baha’u’llah, speaking as the tongue of God said:

Ye shall be hindered from loving Me and souls shall be perturbed as they make mention of Me. For minds cannot grasp Me nor hearts contain Me.

In five days I leave for Paris, France and my French friend said she will come see me. My dear "Heidi of the Mountains" said she must come too because she has to be near me and can't stand a whole month apart. After five days in Paris, we go to Morocco. Heidi stays until May 13 and I continue for another two weeks, going on to Barcelona, Spain, and then back home to Santa Fe.

Sunday, April 17, 2011


I have come to believe that I have a mystical relationship with the number eleven. By this I mean that it is not coincidental that this number appears often in my life as a symbol and a sign from the world of Spirit. I have not always thought this way. I first began to notice the frequency of eleven during my daughter Naomi’s illness. She was born on January 11, 1980. Later, my other daughter, Sarah, was born on November 11. While Naomi battled her cancer, I noticed a pattern of occurrences that involved pairs of one. Then, after she died, I noticed examples of eleven playing a key role in my life. For instance, if I parked in a public lot, I would be in spot number 29, or when I was assigned a hotel room it would be suite 353. My assigned seats on airplanes would be numbers equaling eleven. At art festivals, my assignment would be booth number equaling eleven, e.g. booth 65. When I received a new credit card, the expiration date would be 11/11 and the last four digits equal eleven. I began to realize this pattern, and smiled to myself during the occurrences and then thought, “this is Naomi, confirming her presence in my life, and sending a love note.”

I began thinking more deeply, and realized that my nine-digit social security number equals eleven. Two of my three credit cards have the last four digits equaling eleven. My daughter’s birthdays are elevens.  My gallery might call on the eleventh of the month to tell me a painting sold.

It is all too uncanny and I think is beyond coincidence.

I feel very positive about this year 2011, and feel I have a special relationship with it. My daughter’s birthday will be 11/11/2011. There are other important dates as well—1/1/11,  1/11/11 (Naomi’s birthday), and 11/1/11.

In numerology, number eleven is considered the master number. The number carries a vibrational frequency of balance. Number eleven signifies invention, refinement, fulfillment, vision, and congruence in a person. In astrology, the number eleven is considered a magical number that strikes a balance of emotion, thoughts, and spirits.

Number Eleven Pyramids :
1111 x 1111 = 1234321
111 x 111 = 12321
11 x 11 = 121

Here are some other facts about eleven:
A human's eight fingers and two thumbs are used not just for work and play, but also counting. Eleven is the first number that cannot be counted additively on the fingers.
Eleven is the fifth prime number.
100 divided by 9 is 11.11111111111111.........
with an infinite number of 11s.

1) 11:11 x 11:11 = 1234321
2) 111 x 111 = 12321
3) 11 x 11 = 121

September 11 is the 254 day of a year: 2+5+4 = 11

There are 111 days from September 11 to December 31.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Best of April

Now I have posted 260 blogs! These are my best writings from April, going back to 2007:

BELOVED, April 17, 2010
Sometimes the cruelty of this world is dumbfounding and so insulting to our senses that we recoil immediately and simply withdraw. I remember . . . read blog

We are all travelers. Everything is in motion, even when appearing to be at rest. Time is always . . . read blog

INSPIRATION TO FLY, April 18, 2008
It occasionally happens while I am painting that there is a moment of impasse and I must choose to either continue working in a way I know but that is not proving successful, or else, go into the unknown.  Read blog . . .

Sometimes while I am outdoors painting, my activity arouses people’s curiosity. In the old quarter of Rutigliano, in a neighborhood of stone streets . . . read blog

NEW! A mosaic of Steven Boone blogs

Sunday, April 03, 2011

Reflection From The Bottom Of A Well

In most cases, people see art and respond to the surface, but only briefly. They may even own art, but see it as decoration. Especially, for this sort of public, art is, as Henri Matisse said, “a comfortable armchair which provides rest from physical expectation.”

A man I shall simply call Jim, met me during a presentation I made of photographs from my journey around the world (see: Journey Around The World ). He was fascinated with the experience and also wanted to see my artwork. I told him where my gallery is and he visited it on his own. Later, my gallery informed me that a person had greatly admired one of my pieces. It is a large 60” high x 90” wide mixed-media diptyche; meaning two images are placed side by side to make one. I placed an image of a young Spanish woman holding flowers and seated in a window, next to a scene of the ruined interior of an abandoned home. Moreover, the gallery told me that the man had, “spent hours” looking at this piece and wanted to buy it as soon as his finances would allow. Later, I learned that it was Jim who liked the piece. Subsequently, he visited frequently, and once brought a psychologist friend with him to analyze the art.

Soon afterward, by chance, I met Jim again and took the opportunity to invite him to visit my studio. A few days ago he came, and I found great pleasure in his visit. He is the rare person who goes so deeply into art that he is transported, and can express his thoughts about the experience. He helped me see into my own unconscious. In particular, we looked at a work, (seen above), that is similar and smaller than the one at my gallery. During our conversation, he noticed I had incorporated bits of masking tape. “It shows fragility, like it is holding together something that is falling apart.” Immediately I knew he had expressed what my true intent had been, but he was able to make it literal. “The work has a strong contrast . . . she is so strong, and clean, amidst the ruins and decay all around her. A strong figure in a world falling apart. The red clothes she wears signifies sexuality and fertility.” “Yes,” I agreed, “the art would be too depressing if she wore black.” “And what do you make of the drips?” I asked. Immediately he responded, “They are like tears.” Again, he had discerned my unconscious motive in the drips of paint.

When Jim spoke he gestured and moved back and forth in front of the art, sometimes pausing to peer deeply, his face almost brushing the surface, as if looking for a reflection from the bottom of a well. As he spoke his voice became passionate and I could see his excitement and yearning to discover. “This needs to be seen” he said.

When Jim left my studio, I was surprised how he had so thoroughly explored my artwork, and shared insights that had illumined my own mind.

See more of the art of Steven Boone