In The Matrix

I have a plane ticket to Venice, Italy and an apartment waiting for me when I arrive September 15. Venice is divided into seven neighborhoods called sestieri. I have lived in most of them at one time or another and now I am going back to a favorite called Santa Croce. It is the oldest part of the city with some structures dating over a thousand years.

Homage to VanGogh, mixed-media on canvas, 24x34 inches

With six weeks to go, I have found a married couple to take over my home and make payments that cover expenses for three months minimum, maybe more. It works for them because they are looking to buy a home in Santa Fe. Meanwhile, I have opened a boutique gallery to show my artwork in the center of Santa Fe—on the plaza during August, the busiest tourist month of the year. Today was my first day and I had the good fortune to sell two pieces of artwork. (Shown here).

 During my sojourn outside of the USA, I will write, make drawings and paintings, and spend hours on streets doing photography. When I did this before, in 2008, I called it “disappearing into the matrix”. Friends, when I told them my plans, joked and replied that I was going to “disappear into the mattress.” Ha, that is not it at all. What the matrix is to me is the place where elements and primal forces merge in life and death—where creation transforms. It is also the calm place inside the swirling forces of nature, like the eye of the hurricane. A great place to be observer.

Homage to Monet, mixed-media on canvas, 24x34 inches

Essential Substance Of Life

Self-portrait, taken in Montevideo, Uruguay

Matrix is a word that I arrive at often when thinking of my creative process. During my one-year sojourn around the world, I intended to disappear into the matrix, and from there, let my creative energies flow. What does it mean? For me, matrix describes the essential substance of life from which everything is born. It is always in flux, receiving the dying forms and casting forth the newborn upon the shores of existence.

The perfect place from which to create is one of boundlessness. A musician is in the flow and notes seem to come from out of nowhere. A painter is fluidly creating his painting and his marks sometimes are surprising . . . he has gone outside his boundaries and is in the realm of discovery.

Creation is timeless, and when an artist is creating he often is not aware of the passage of the moments. He begins, and when he looks up again, is finished, and then wonders, where did the time go?

Self-portrait, Paris, France

Destiny is Always Unfolding

Path into the Himalaya mountains.

“The future will take care of itself.”

This became my motto while traveling, and even now that I travel less, I believe it. Essentially, this thought promotes a feeling that destiny is always unfolding inexorably, so go with the flow without fear—when the future arrives, trust that it is meant to happen and be thankful.

My wife does not quite get this attitude, and she objects to my fearless living, especially when my savings plummet because I withdraw money to live fully according to my inspirations.

In fact, most people are afraid of “not having enough.” This means constantly struggling to keep assets to survive comfortably . . . especially in case money stops. Enough must exist to insure survival in emergencies.

Something strange happened to me after my oldest daughter, Naomi died. I gave up trying to hold on, and instead practiced letting go. I even stopped trying to hold onto my own life, and instead abandoned myself to what I call “the matrix.” This is the place where life and death is always shifting and dancing together. My marriage fell apart, my ex-wife bought my half of our home and I became “homeless,” leaving the USA to go around the world. For one year I lived in a state of flux, journeying through nineteen countries until I had gone completely around the earth. I occasionally found myself in places where people from my background would never tread—e.g. the slums of Cairo, Egypt, the ghettos of Nairobi, Kenya, a houseboat on a lake in Kashmir . . . but then, I always felt safe in “the matrix.”