As previously mentioned, focus has returned to words. Combing through decades of writing, essays are taking shape drawn from years of travel and introspection. A foundation is forming, and at its core, the year 2008.
A year of surrender. A year of dissolving into the matrix of life. Traveling the world with no fixed plan, disappearing into The Dream. That journey reshaped everything—perception, identity, the sense of what is possible. Now, its echoes call to be gathered into writing, to be shared.
Perhaps, someday, they will find their way into a book, titled, The Weight of Air. A collection of journeys—both outward and inward—woven together with the same thread that has always guided me: surrender, discovery, and the dissolution of boundaries. But for now, the task has begun; offering through words and images, glimpses into worlds both spiritual and sensual, taking flight between wakefulness and dreaming.
The first chapter is called, The Moment I Chose to Vanish. An excerpt:
Into the Matrix
Preparing to give myself into the unknown, my thoughts were becoming doorways; portals into experience. The physical world, I understood, was where the true value of my visions would be revealed. A recurring desire took hold of me: I wanted to disappear into the matrix of the earth. Not to carry anything with me, but to become fluid and free.
What did this mean? To disappear—to vanish from being seen as a separate, formed being and dissolve into oneness with life. Life, the vast, interwoven fabric where everything is connected—people, events, places, emotions, and time. I desired to be in this matrix, surrendering to the flow, allowing experiences to inspire and shape me rather than trying to control them. Children remained close to it, still forming in its embrace, unshaped by the boundaries that adults constructed.
Looking back now, I see I stood on the threshold of an exploration—one that would take me beyond those boundaries, into a vast unknown. I had been preparing to strip away the artificial walls that society had built around life, to step into something raw and unfiltered.
This 72 year old artist often feels the horizon pulling closer, the once-distant line now brushing against the edges of his days. No longer in a hurry or feeling pressed to create, the creative juices flow, but not like a raging river . . . rather as a broad expanse in no hurry to get anywhere.
Especially since moving to Mexico, I see how my art has transformed and now, it is as if I have climbed a high mountain and can look back to vast territories my journey has taken me through. Fortunately I have kept records. Slides from before the digital age have been in boxes. A life’s worth of images—photos of four decades of work, sketches on scraps of paper, grainy shots of exhibitions long past. Each a fragment of a story, a frame in the reel of becoming.
Recently I have been re-making the website that bears my name. My art collectors might be bewildered at the stark shift in my subject matter since moving to Mexico. For public pleasure, I have made a movie, piecing together and crafting a film that spans four decades of artmaking.
It is strange, this act of looking back. I had to explore many territories before stopping to look back. The artist once lived only for the present canvas, the immediate stroke, the urgency of now. But in this reflection, he finds a quiet pride—life not measured in mere years but in creations—in every brushstroke, every finished piece, every fragment of beauty left for the world.
As the final credits roll, the work will carry forward, long after I am gone. I have given all I could, and perhaps that is an artist’s greatest triumph: to leave behind a world more beautiful than he found it.
For many of us, the winter solstice marks a time to reflect, recharge, and reconnect with the rhythms of nature. For my wife Amy and me, this year brought a longing for the Pacific Ocean’s embrace—a call we couldn’t ignore. After all, it is not that far a drive away. From our quiet village on the outskirts of Oaxaca, we set off on a journey to Mazunte, a jewel on Mexico’s Pacific coast. Known for its pristine beaches, bohemian charm, and soulful tranquility, this small seaside town seemed the perfect place to honor the year’s shortest day and longest night. Our plan was simple: to escape the everyday, soak in the ocean’s timeless wisdom, and welcome the return of longer days with an offering while surrounded by beauty and peace.
The joy of the Pacific Ocean is irresistible. As we reached Mazunte after a four hour drive—mostly on a new highway, the rhythmic crash of waves called us like an old friend, and soon we were in the water, laughing and leaping through the surf. Well, I was in the ocean. Amy does not swim, but likes to stride the sandy beach, waves licking her toes. The ocean’s embrace was cool yet invigorating, a timeless reminder of life’s playful, unrestrained energy. Frolicking in the shallows, we felt the weight of everyday worries melt away with each rolling wave. We enjoyed seeing people of all types and ages, in families, solo, with partners and dogs. A nude beach is not far away and sometimes young women were topless and unbothered.
Our days unfolded with a natural rhythm, guided by the sun’s ascent and descent. Walking along the beach at sunrise felt like stepping into a dreamscape—the light casting a golden hue across the sand, the ocean shimmering with the first blush of morning. As the day gave way to evening, we found ourselves in awe of fiery sunsets, their colors spilling across the horizon, mirrored in the rippling tide.
Mazunte’s vibrant charm extended beyond the shore. Strolling through town, we discovered eclectic shops offering everything from handmade jewelry to vibrant textiles. Each store felt like a small treasure chest, inviting us to linger and explore. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries often drew us into cozy cafes where time slowed, and we savored the simple pleasures of buttery croissants and rich, aromatic brews. Mexico’s coast produces some of the finest coffee in the world.
Beachside grills became our favorite dining spots, where we indulged in fresh fish grilled to perfection, seasoned with local spices, and accompanied by tangy salsas, ensaladas, and warm tortillas.
For me, during the three day sojourn, I felt the weight of troubles lift by the hour, until a new found sense of freedom settled inside.
When we returned home, our trusted house sitter greeted us warmly, our two dogs safely in tow, tails wagging with excitement. The house was just as we had left it, a comforting welcome back to our life in the village.
The next evening, we joined our dear neighbors, Mayolo and Marta, for Christmas Eve supper. Their home is just a short walk from ours, and over the years, they’ve become more than friends—they feel like family. Sitting around their table, sharing food and stories, it was clear how much our lives had intertwined, weaving a shared sense of belonging.
On Christmas Day, our neighbor Remedios and her young daughter visited to bake Christmas cookies with Amy. Without an oven of her own, Remedios brought her heartfelt enthusiasm to our kitchen. The house quickly filled with the sweet aromas of cinnamon and sugar. Her husband has been away in the United States for several years, and she raises her two children on her own with boundless love and resilience. Watching her laugh with her daughter while they rolled out dough was a touching reminder of her strength and grace.
Just last night, we hosted a gathering of ten neighbors at our home, a beautiful mix of Mexicanos and ex-pats. Around the table, we shared a meal accompanied by laughter and lively conversation. The hours slipped by as we toasted, told stories, and celebrated the season, the warmth of connection lingering long after the last plate was cleared. It was one of those evenings that deepened our gratitude for this little village and the incredible people who make it feel like home.
Since October 2006, my blog, My Fairytale Life, has been a space where I’ve shared 797 episodes of my journey through art, life, and love. Over the years, it has become an archive of my life experiences; joys and struggles, triumphs and setbacks, including two unforgettable trips I’ve taken around the world.
I began the blog as a way to share my artistic life, and perhaps supplement in writing my paintings that I was fortunate enough to successfully market. The name, My Fairy Tale Life, is a bow to my deep reverence for the tradition of fairy tales, made famous by the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson, who collected them and made them into books. Many times in life I have thought the world and life is a grand fairy tale. As Shakespeare famously said: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts."
Pictures accompany text that reflect my experiences. Each post serves as a chapter in the unfolding story of my life lived creatively and fully. When I began, I never imagined reaching such a staggering number of entries.
Now, there are times I pause and wonder: What more is there to say? But as I step into each day, something always emerges—a spark of inspiration, a memory, a lesson, or simply a reflection on the beauty and challenges of living authentically.
Through this blog, I’ve connected with readers around the world, who’ve followed my journey and perhaps found inspiration for their own. There have been 1.15 million views so far. For that, I am deeply grateful.
It's been about six months since I delved headfirst into the realm of creating images using artificial intelligence, and I must say, the journey has been nothing short of captivating. From the very beginning, I was spellbound by the incredible abilities and swiftness with which AI can bring imagery to life.
What initially drew me in was the sheer potential AI holds for generating ideas and sparking creativity. As an artist, inspiration is key, and AI has proven to be a tool in this regard. It effortlessly churns out suggestions and concepts, acting as a muse that never sleeps. But what truly excites me is that the journey doesn't end there; it's only the beginning.
With each creation, I find myself immersed in a collaborative dance between human intuition and machine precision. The process is a delicate balance of guiding the AI while allowing its algorithms to surprise and delight me with unexpected twists and turns. What emerges from this partnership is not just a mere digital rendering but a piece of art imbued with a unique blend of human emotion and technological ingenuity.
But let's address the elephant in the room: Will AI ever replace the age-old tradition of painting by hand? As someone who cherishes the tactile experience of wielding a brush and feeling the texture of canvas beneath my fingertips, I can confidently say no. Painting by hand is a deeply personal journey, an intimate expression of one's innermost thoughts and emotions. It's a process that transcends mere pixels on a screen, drawing upon centuries of tradition and craftsmanship.
However, this doesn't diminish the significance of AI in the realm of art. Rather, it expands the possibilities, opening doors to new techniques and approaches that were once unimaginable. AI-generated art is not a threat to traditional methods; it's a complement, a catalyst for pushing the boundaries of creativity ever further.
As I reflect on the past six months, I'm filled with gratitude for the opportunity to explore this fascinating intersection of art and technology. With every brushstroke, whether by hand to canvas or digital, I'm reminded that the true essence of art lies not only in the tools we use but in the stories we tell and the emotions we evoke. And in that sense, AI is not just a tool; it's a partner in the endless pursuit of artistic expression.
Oaxaca Passages, oil on canvas, 40 x 70 cm, April 2024
I like artwork that defies predictability and traverses emotional landscapes. Two recent paintings from our studio Dos Venados in Oaxaca, exemplify this art.
Amy Córdova Boone has continued her fantastic storytelling through art in her latest piece, called El Peregrino Sagrado; “The Sacred Pilgrim,” (acrylic on canvas, 60 x 80 cm.) Her paintings emerge from deep within her psyche. This painting was inspired by a book she wrote and illustrated several years ago, entitled Talking Eagle and the Lady of Roses, published by Steiner Books, NY.
The story of Guadalupe and Juan Diego is one of the most revered and iconic tomes in Mexican Catholic tradition. It dates back to December 9-12, 1531, when according to tradition, Juan Diego, a devout indigenous man, experienced a series of miraculous encounters with the Virgin Mary on Tepeyac Hill near present-day Mexico City.
During the encounters, the Virgin Mary, appearing as a young indigenous woman, instructed Juan Diego to go to the Bishop and request the construction of a church in her honor on Tepeyac Hill. Initially, the Bishop was skeptical of Juan Diego's claims, but after a series of miraculous occurrences, including the blooming of Castilian roses in the middle of winter and the imprint of the Virgin's image on Juan Diego's tilma (cloak), the Bishop was convinced of the authenticity of Juan Diego's visions.
The image of Our Lady of Guadalupe imprinted on Juan Diego's tilma became a symbol of faith and unity for the Mexican people. It is said to contain layers of symbolism that spoke directly to the indigenous population, bridging the gap between their traditional beliefs and Catholicism.
The Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe was eventually built on Tepeyac Hill, becoming one of the most important pilgrimage sites in the Americas. The tilma of Juan Diego, with the miraculous image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, remains on display in the basilica to this day, attracting millions of visitors each year.
The story of Juan Diego and Our Lady of Guadalupe is not only a cornerstone of Mexican Catholicism but also a testament to the power of faith, miracles, and the enduring presence of the divine in everyday life.
Within my own oil paintings, I hope to surprise an audience, and do this by occasionally shifting artistic direction. The last few years my work has been somber and introspective. I made a series of "Memento Mori" paintings, where skeletal figures grapple symbolically with mortality. Recently, after I felt closure, my art has taken a dramatic turn towards vibrancy and celebration⏤exemplified by my most recent large piece, Two Dancers at a Fiesta, (oil on canvas, 80 x 100 cm.) It is in a world bursting with color and life. The canvas pulsates with the energy of the dance floor, as two figures whirl and twirl amidst a jubilant fiesta atmosphere. The subjects dance along with the brilliant colors and bold twirling designs. Even the floor is bursting with vibrancy. Gone are the solemn reminders of mortality; instead, we revel in the joyous rhythms of corporeal existence.
This shift is not only in artistic evolution but also the embrace of multifaceted human experience. Through my paintings, I embrace both the darkness and the light, finding beauty and meaning in every aspect of life's tapestry.
The Pacific Ocean is not far away from us here in Oaxaca, Mexico. About 125 miles. Yet we have not visited often since arriving four years ago. The reason has been that the old highway to the coast led us around the city and then over the Sierra Madre Mountains on a harrowing two lane road that could make a person sick from the twists and turns. About a seven hour trek.
Everything is different now that the long anticipated and awaited highway 175, a sleek asphalt “autopista” is newly opened.
With a desire for adventure and a celebration on the horizon, my beloved wife Amy and I embarked on our journey to Puerto Escondido, a coastal gem on the Pacific shores. However, this time, the route took an exciting twist as we drove the new highway, cutting our travel time in half. Gone were the days of perilous journeys over the Sierra Madre Mountains, with their treacherously winding paths. Instead, we found ourselves cruising along the smooth asphalt of the new highway, marveling at the picturesque landscapes unfolding before us. The reduced travel time not only ensured a safer passage but also allowed us to immerse ourselves in the beauty of our surroundings without the constant worry of hazardous roads.
After a seamless journey, we arrived at our coastal haven in Mazunte: Casa Ofelia. The small but famous town attracts a diverse crowd that includes hippies, yogis, spiritual seekers, and those interested in animal conservation. It's laid-back atmosphere, eco-friendly practices, and focus on yoga, turtle conservation, and spiritual activities make it a popular destination for alternative travelers. Bohemian vibes abound, which is fine for Amy and I⏤both former hippies. We enjoyed people watching: men with tanned, muscular builds, beards and “man Buns”; that is long hair tied up in a bun atop the head. Women sauntered scantily dressed. Many go topless on the beach.
Greeted by the salty breeze and the rhythmic sounds of the ocean waves just outside our bedroom door, our accommodation in Mazunte provided perfect sanctuary, offering a tranquil escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. We stayed three days then headed back to Puerto Escondido for two nights.
In Puerto Escondido we lodged at Hotel Santa Fe, namesake of our former hometown. It offers a mix of colonial elegance and modern amenities. Furthermore, it is set directly opposite Zicatela beach, providing guests with sweeping beach views and stunning sunsets.
As the sun dipped below the horizon on the final night of our retreat, we gathered to commemorate a special occasion—the 71st birthday of my beloved Amy. With laughter, love, and gratitude in our hearts, we raised a toast to our togetherness and the adventures yet to come.
Our getaway to the coast was more than just a journey—it was a testament to the joy of exploration, the importance of cherished moments, and the power of love. As we bid farewell to the coastal paradise, we carried home to Oaxaca with us memories for our lifetime, forever etched in the sands of time.
A journey of experimentation in painting and photography becomes a dance between colors and shadows, brushstrokes and shutter clicks.
In the realm of my photography, each new technique is a portal to uncharted territories promising a visual adventure that transcends the familiar. A click of the camera becomes a brushstroke on the canvas of my visual narrative, weaving together my unique story.
Mastering new lighting situations, experimenting with unconventional angles, intentionally blurring images with hand movement, creating double images in the camera or delving into the world of photoshop, the process of discovery is my constant companion.
Joy lies in the unpredictability of the outcome, the serendipitous moments when a blend of techniques gives rise to a photograph that echoes the essence of my artistic soul. It's about pushing boundaries, embracing the unknown, and allowing creativity to flourish.
As a painter and photographer, the synergy between the two crafts fuels a perpetual cycle of inspiration. For years I have experimented as painter and photographer, using my talents to bring artistry to images I make on canvas and with a camera. Decades of dedication to both disciplines only serve to enhance the thrill of creative adventure. The well of creativity seems deep, and does not diminish.
And now I am jumping into the world of artificial intelligence, or AI. I have only just begun, but immediately find the results astonishing. I understand computer work is all only numbers and code and will not replace what I accomplish by hand. Yet, as I say this, I am cognizant that I have only been using digital cameras now for about twenty years. When a picture is taken and recorded on a chip, it is all numbers. Then it can be read by computers which translate information into actual images that can be printed.
AI creation with touch-up editing in photoshop
Ultimately, my thrill of discovery in photography is a celebration of my artistic spirit's boundless curiosity. It's the joy of finding beauty in unexpected places, capturing fleeting moments that resonate with emotion, and continuously evolving my artistic journey. The same is true of my ever evolving artwork in paints. Since moving to Mexico my subject matter has changed dramatically⏤from exuberant landscapes, I have gone to gritty spectral images of skeletons. Though now I have gone back to still life and portraits. But it can change at any time. I am not so much painting for the public anymore It is for my soul.
A week like no other . . . and to think⏤Amy’s sister arrived from Minnesota and experienced it with us. Cari arrived along with Dia de Muertos, an extraordinary week of color, tradition, and creativity.
In the heart of Mexico amidst the vibrant streets of Oaxaca, Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is a time-honored tradition in Mexican culture, celebrating the lives of departed loved ones with colorful festivities and heartfelt remembrance.
The two sisters stayed in a nice hotel in the city for two nights as events ramped up. There is so much to entice the eye during the course of the holiday. I always drive to town from our village every day to photograph.
We feel honored and bonded in our adopted community. Especially with the family of Mayolo Galindo, our neighbor who makes our tin frames. His wife Marta gave a cooking lesson in our home on making molé and traditional tamales. That evening we had a wonderful traditional tamale dinner to mark Cari´s birthday.
Every day and night are parades and celebrations. I threw myself in as much as possible to get photographs. A book of Dia de Muertos portraits will be forthcoming with one more year of picture taking.
This year we were honored that a premiere gallery rushed to take our work and highlight it as part of their offering for Dia De Muertos. They installed a grand ofrenda in the midst of our paintings. It was a surreal experience to see our art displayed alongside other talented artists, each piece telling a unique story of life, death, and the mystical in-between. We had hoped for such an outcome but had not expected. Then it suddenly occurred.
Memento Mori, by Steven Boone, oil on linen, with tin frame by M. Galindo
The art gallery reception was warmly received. Many people stop to photograph our pieces and pose next to them.
Entre Culebras y Colibríes,by Amy Córdova Boone, acrylic on canvas, with tin frame by M. Galindo
In the aftermath of Dia de Muertos, on November 4th as we drove home from the city, we stopped to walk in our village cemetery. I was moved that every grave in the large plot had flowers on it.
Because of a glitch in Cari´s flight home, she stayed an extra two days. We visited the largest tree on earth (in circumference) and drove 40 minutes to Tule to see the Tule tree. Another breathtaking experience in our panorama of experiences since she arrived.
Cari discovered the true essence of Dia de Muertos – a celebration that transcends boundaries and connects us all in a beautiful tapestry of humanity. Today she arrived at the airport without delay and boarded for home, full of stories to tell.
Amy and I share a studio at our home in Oaxaca, Mexico. Our approaches to painting are very different and we both admire each other for the unique abilities we bring to creation. Being with Amy when she makes her masterpieces is enthralling and perplexing both.
Amy usually begins work without a clear idea of what will arrive in the end. The entire process is a journey of discovery which she refers to as a ¨conversation¨. It is as though she opens herself to the power of energetic vibration and then uses that to bring forth visions and stories.
I am amazed at the potent stories that are told in her paintings. My frustration is when I see her come and go from her work, which she does frequently. She gets something done and walks away, sometimes for a day or so, only to come back and change it. She insists she does this at the painting´s request. She is self taught and has to see her work in stages⏤fine tuning all along.
My paintings take much less time to accomplish than Amy’s. I have a degree in fine art with much academic training. Over the years I mastered my techniques and work with strong impulse, not second-guessing as I go along.
Amy has done very well in her art career and has more recognized achievements and awards than I during her forty years of art making. It is because she is pure in her creation.
Here in Mexico, we both have been inspired by the culture and our art reflects some new paradigms. Amy has just completed a fine example: called, La Sagrada Herencia de Madre Maiz. ¨The Sacred Inheritance of Corn Mother¨
She says: ¨Since childhood, I have felt a connection to the jeweled colors of corn, and throughout my life, it has become a totem symbol that represents me. I felt a deep sense of reverence while bringing this prayer to life."
"In my painting, the vital force, coming from the potent world of Spirit is also in the memory and breath of our Ancestors. The Human Being; in this case, a child wrapped in Guadalupe´s rebozo is open to receive the gifts / blessings that surround her. And, Corn, the staple of life, is the heartbeat of it all.”
I liked it as soon as I saw it. Amy was already smitten. We were in a gallery called Peyote People that represents art special to Huichol Indian people of southern Mexico. It is across the street from Boulenc, a bakery and restaurant we visit frequently to buy the best baked bread in Oaxaca. We had bought bread and decided to drop in to the gallery on our return to our car. Beaded art, yarn paintings, textiles, ceramics and wood carvings adorned the area from top to bottom. Amy had stopped in her tracks in front of a yarn painting hanging high on a wall. I came to her side and we admired it together. Huichol yarn paintings are made with colorful yarn meticulously glued to board and depict symbols important to the culture. Amy was especially touched by the motif of corn, feathers, a deer, the sun, and peyote plants, skillfully laid out in yarn of fantastic colors. We bought the piece.
It is called “La Ofrenda Sagrada” meaning The Sacred Offering, by Jesus Jimenez. We hung it in our kitchen/breakfast nook area, over a bench where my Frida Kahlo painting hung previously. La Ofrenda Sagrada is bright and magical, perfect for its place in our Mexican home.
Amy said how much she likes having the Frida Kahlo over our bed now. Nothing was there before. I made the painting, copying Frida’s earliest self portrait and putting a skeleton next to her. In the upper left corner is her quote: “I want to be inside your darkest everything.”
When our neighbor Mayolo understood that Amy and I needed frames for our paintings in our little village in southern Mexico, he said, “I can make them out of tin!” My first reaction was to say no. I had never shown a painting in a tin frame and considered it cheap material that is used to preserve foods. Mayolo insisted he could do something that would make us happy. We decided to try one.
Memento Mori, Steven Boone
I don’t understand Spanish and Mayolo does not speak English⏤Amy does her best to interpret.
We collaborated with Mayolo to use motifs from our paintings as frame elements, and, the magnificent results that Mayolo created are mind blowing.
Rooster Serendade, Steven Boone
Mayolo delivers frames that truly delight, proving he is a master craftsman and ingenious artist.
The Key, Amy Córdova Boone
Best Birthday, Amy Córdova Boone
Since that first frame, he has delivered to us nine more⏤each distinctly custom made with unique embellishments that enhance the art. In fact, each piece is itself a work of art and adds great value. Thank you, to our dear friend and brother, the one and only Mayolo!
