The life of artist, photographer, traveler, and writer Steven Boone. Steven was born in Chicago but now lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA. His paintings are widely collected, and also included in the permanent collections of the US Department of Interior and The Foundation Van Gogh D'Arles, in Arles, France.
Boone lost his daughter to cancer when she was nineteen. His award-winning book, called "A Heart Traced in Sand" recall his experiences with her living and dying.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
THE DREAM speaks . . . sings, flows, is air, is
water, flux. I am in it and witness, play along as an actor on it’s
stage. I am audience to my performance as well—yet I only long for
the place of unfolding—not the witnessing, but the unfolding. What
is it then to unfold and witness at the same time?
moments be slowed? Slowed into singularity so that only one time
exists? Cessation of separation, to realize that sleep, waking,
work, rest, play, happiness, sadness, success, failure, male-female,
God, human, animal, plant,—all are unified in the borderless regions of oneness. -Written from
Buenos Aires, Argentina, March 2010
What is Buenos Aires without tango? The
night I visited Cafe Tortoni, I went for tango. The Cafe is a classic Parisian style affair, with high ceilings, chandeliers, glistening
tile floors, lacquered wooden tables and chairs, and artwork covering
the walls. I went right by all this and straight downstairs, into a
small dark cavern with tables and a stage. My eyes adjusted to the
dark and I could see shadowy silhouettes of people seated, and soon, musicians came to take their positions besides the
stage, and begin making the familiar, haunting, chords of tango
music. The stage had a backdrop of a cafe, and the dancers arrived,
in pairs. The area was small enough to feel intimate, and as if the
spectacle was unfolding among friends gathered privately for a night
I had my camera, and amid the strident
song notes striking the chords of longing and pathos in everyone's
hearts, and the stage smoke filtering the colored lights as the
dancers strode, strutted, and twirled together, I took pictures.
Since then, I have sold my images from
that evening, as prints and large scale mixed-media pieces. One has
appeared on the cover of a french language novel.
The Steven Boone Gallery sold a large mixed-media piece today, called Tango Flair, and this is what inspired my blog today.