The Ever-Shifting Dance of Creation

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.  

Reinventing Beyond Painting

For most of my life, I have been an artist—a painter first and foremost. Many times I have felt like pinching myself, asking, “Can this be true . . . a successful artist?” Standing in nature painting beauty, while listening to birdsongs and feeling wind and sun, and then getting paid for the painting. What could be better? My hands have moved with color, form, and instinct, bringing visions to life on canvas.

 

Art has been a constant companion, shaping existence, giving purpose, and serving as conduit to the world. It has been my identity.

But now, at 72, I find myself at a crossroads, making a shift never anticipated.  

It is strange to acknowledge: my creative wellspring hasn’t dried up, but the way it flows is changing. Painting—once the beating heart of daily rhythm—feels quieter now, like a tide receding. In its place, something else is rising. Writing. Storytelling. The art of weaving my lived experiences, insights, and dreams into words that might reach others in a different way than my paintings ever could.  

I have been a writer all along. But it has been mostly in the background. Awards have been won, magazine articles published. Like my photography that has occasionally adorned a book cover, I have given creative energy to art other than painting.

Now to immerse myself in writing! To shape and share my thoughts more expansively. Friends have suggested for years that I combine my images with my writing, (See: Plenty To Write About). Yet, it is bittersweet. I am abandoning painting, at least for now, because writing must consume the hours. Not to choose this lightly; rather, it is the natural pull of a creative current, something I have always trusted.

Fortunately, it is not from scratch. For nearly two decades, I have been writing about my journey—art, travels, philosophies—on My Fairy-Tale Life, this blog that now holds almost 800 entries. These writings, layered with the richness of time and experience, form a vast reservoir to draw from and shift toward publishing on platforms like Substack and Medium. They hold the stories of a life lived with intensity, surrender, and wonder. In many ways, I have already been writing my next chapter—I just didn’t realize it.  

And while my paintbrush may rest for now, the visual world does not. With thousands of images—paintings, photographs, moments captured over a lifetime—I can now pair them with writing. In this way, my artistic spirit continues, even as the medium shifts. Perhaps I am not leaving painting behind, but rather allowing it to merge with language in a way that feels inevitable.

The journey has been anything but linear. From a year of "disappearing into the matrix" in 2008, traveling the world in THE DREAM and surrendering to the currents of life, and to the deeply personal journey of grief and love that shaped my book A Heart Traced in Sand, life has always been a dance between artistic expression and storytelling. Now, it seems, words are taking the lead.  

Who knows where this shift will lead. But then again, I never knew where painting would take me either. That is the beauty of creative life: it is never truly static, even when we believe we have found our singular path.  

Others have felt this shift in their own lives—the unexpected pivot, the realization that reinvention is not the territory of youth alone. Even at 72, there is room for sudden transformation. Perhaps the true art is in the letting go, the willingness to follow the currents when they change direction.  

So here I am, stepping into something new. Not abandoning the past, but expanding the horizon. If you have followed my work as a painter, I hope you will join me on this next phase of the journey—through words, through memory, through the ever-unfolding dream of life.  

Because at any age, and in any form, the art continues.  

Soon to come: My Substack and Medium websites where you can enjoy my literature.

Check out a new Stevenboone website: https://stevenboone.myportfolio.com/

With Fresh Eyes

This past week, Amy and I, along with a friend visiting from our former hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA, set out on a much-anticipated road trip from our village outside Oaxaca, Mexico to the Pacific Coast. With Highway 175 stretching before us, we embarked on our scenic drive. We had been to the coast on the same route about a month prior and the newly finished highway was smooth, clean and fast. This time we were stunned to find heavy damage along the way. Rocks and earth slides slowed down our drive and left us in awe and trembling. Men working heavy machinery were tasked the huge job of clearing the damage. 

Our destination was Mazunte, a small coastal town known for its bohemian charm and laid-back energy. Nestled along the shore, Hotel Casa Ofelia became our sanctuary for three nights—a simple yet delightful hotel where the ocean itself seemed to breathe tranquility into every moment. Our days melted into a dream of sunlit waves, salty breezes, the lulling sound of crashing waves, and endless relaxation. Amy does not swim, but I went headlong into the surf when I could. The ocean there is dangerous for its forceful action and somewhat steep slope, so at least once I was warned by a lifeguard to only go in up to my knees. Fortunately there is another, spectacular and safe beach called San Augustinillo, just minutes away.

Mazunte has a way of slowing time. It attracts travelers, artists, and wanderers, all drawn to its eclectic, free-spirited atmosphere. To me, it has the feeling of Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco during the height of the hippie days in the late 1960´s. Very relaxed elemental people are on a permanent free-spirit groove. The ocean, ever-present, is guide—a steady force softening thoughts and smoothing away
lingering tensions. We found a new favorite restaurant, grabbed delicious local coffee, visited a marvelous Turtle Museum. Spent sunset time walking along the shore, watching the sky transform into a canvas of fiery colors.

By the time we packed up to leave, we felt renewed. Three nights in eclectic Mazunte had worked its quiet magic, offering us space to breathe, to be still, and to simply exist in the presence of the sea. 

The drive home was reflective and slightly strained with the landscape shifting once again. Then suddenly when we entered Oaxaca city I felt it—the warm embrace of home. The cobblestone streets, vibrant markets, and artistic soul welcomed us back. Charms we had momentarily left behind now felt even richer, layered with the peace we carried from the coast.

Sometimes, a journey is not about seeking something new but about stepping away just long enough to return with fresh eyes. Mazunte gave us that gift, and Oaxaca, in turn, received us with open arms.

Rekindled Friendship

 

Amy and I occasionally have the pleasure of meeting friends from the United States when they come to Oaxaca on vacation. This past week one of Amy’s dearest friends from her former life in Taos, New Mexico came with her daughter and daughters fiancé to visit. They booked a hotel in Centro. We arranged a tour guide for them, and spent precious moments going places together and visiting in our home.

A highlight of our time together was El Museo del Tallador de Sueños; A haven of whimsy and wonder, it is small museum of magical woodcarvings called Alebrije´s. Located in Arrazola, the village neighbors ours. 

The museum is a testament to the artistry and imagination of Oaxacan woodcarvers. What made this visit even more special is Amy's connection to the famous family of artists who own the museum. We are friends with the Jimenez family who own the museum. In fact, Amy made the illustrations for a book called Dream Carver published in the USA and made into a muppets play.

Now, a huge mural adorns the wall at the museum replicating her illustration from the book.

As our Taos friends marveled at the intricate carvings and vibrant hues of the Alebrijes, they couldn't help but be swept away by the enchantment of it all.

With carvings in hand, tangible mementos of their time together and the artistry of Oaxaca, they bid farewell to the museum, hearts brimming with newfound admiration for this corner of the world. The journey had not only rekindled old friendships but also deepened appreciation for the beauty that thrives in spaces between cultures and across borders.

For more about the magic . . .

To Be in THE DREAM

Just being alive is exciting, and my perception is that THE DREAM is a single entity. In other words, every moment is part of the one preceding it, and the one to come. I do not divide them but live in the universal. The present time gives me all that I need.   From My FairyTale Life, February 07, 2010 

During all of the year 2008 I travelled solo around the globe, completely circling the earth, mostly going eastward. I had so many fabulous adventures. They became part of this blog, which I call My Fairy-Tale Life. From the start of the sojourn, my consciousness shifted from deliberate planning to more of observer in a state of flux. The constant flow of surprising sights and sounds in unknown environments left me feeling as if I lived in a dream. This is what I adopted as normal⏤THE DREAM.

Me with Ash. I rented a houseboat from him on Dal Lake, in Kashmir, India. 10/2008

When traveling ended and routine life resumed, I noticed also my perceptions and consciousness slipped back to occupation with matters of health, income, community and family. Thoughts became compartmentalized again. Occasionally I remembered that I am dreaming in real life, but the sensation would go away as exigencies required attention.

Lately I have been reading passages from my days of being totally in THE DREAM. True now as it was then, living in Mexico I can see that THE DREAM has wonderful gifts. The lesson is to be grateful under all circumstances, not discriminate, and see that each experience is woven into all other experiences creating the fabric of existence called life.

Returning to the sea of life

Quotes from My Fairy-Tale Life, spanning years:

Life cannot be held, only experienced. To try and hold it is when we realize it is but a dream. - December 06, 2015

I shook off notions of nationality, race, wealth—all the usual prejudices that are obstacles to oneness. The more I let go, the more I realized the world is phenomenal, fluid—and ever shifting sands. -April 08, 2018

My mind shifted from analysis and planning to complete acceptance of the moment. I began having total trust in what was being presented to me, seeing the gift of life everywhere and in everything. Opportunities arose and I had no fear because I did not live with feelings of opposition or separateness. My surroundings and I were one, and as events unfolded and I met people, the experiences were more profound because I was open to them—even expecting them. Events and consciousness seemed continuous and woven together, full of wonder and surprise—as if in a dream. I was the dreamer bearing witness. 

Thoughts and emotions are not permanent. I have been looking to a higher reality to gain perspective—to find immutable truth. Everything depends on it or else falls apart. My life has come undone so I have been ardently going to the place of truth, longing only to stay in that sacred temple. The more I am there, the more I see that THE DREAM is not only the fleeting occurrences all around me, but the terrain of my mind as well. Truth is independent of mind, beyond time and space. I am not talking about relative truth but rather the absolute: God, the uncreated Creator Who dwells in all, and is first recognized by our souls. - April 05, 2015

THE DREAM, to me, is a function of consciousness and interpretation of perceptions. I prefer not to interpret and judge my experiences but rather live them entirely as to “know” them. THE DREAM goes before me and I trust it because it is myself, in dialogue with God. -November 21, 2009

Dar Timitar, El Kelaa M'gouna, Morocco

“We must give up the life we had planned in order to accept the one that is waiting for us.” -Joseph Campbell

For more: THE DREAM writing

¡Viva! Art On The Streets

 

Amy and I are artists who spend time together creating art in our wonderful home in a village outside of Oaxaca, Mexico. We go to the city at least three days a week and feel excitement. I always make a new discovery and am surprised by something I have not seen before. Much of it is art on the streets. 

The street art is awesome and mysterious because we assume it is done for free by artists who create masterpieces.

My daughter Sarah during a visit

One group, called Subterreneos, is a collective of artists. They have their own atelier and make woodblock prints, sometimes on a massive scale. Much of the work is of somewhat political nature, making social justice statements. The prints are for sale, but often also are printed on special papers that are then glued with a wheat paste substance on walls around the city. I have seen fantastic works. They deteriorate naturally, but are replaced with something new, often  in a different location. 

Mural being created by the group Subterreneos for a local food market

Artist working on mural

Native culture, heritage, tradition and “raíces,” or roots, all run deep in Oaxaca. Travel and Leisure Magazine has awarded Oaxaca first place in its annual best cities in the world issue⏤more than once. Amy and I chose to live here after an initial visit. We felt a definite allure. When we found our dream house at a price we could not resist, we made the move. It was like holding hands and jumping into the unknown, but trusting something bigger.

We live outside of the big city in a growing community called San Pedro Ixtlahuaca. Not much around but cornfields and rolling hills, but it has a town center with businesses and is not far from a hugely important Mexican archeological site called Monte Alban.

Oaxaca and its charms are all close by.

More about Oaxacan street art

To Paint A Dream

 

Since moving to our little village outside Oaxaca, Mexico, Amy and I have have been strongly influenced by our new culture. From our second floor studio in our home, we have been slowly but steadily producing “las pinturas con una diferencia.”  At some point we hope to mount a public show together.  Our styles and subjects are different enough to make it quite interesting.

Amy has completed a new work from our studio, called, Into the Mystic, acrylic on board, 24"x39".  She says:

"Xoloitzcuintle or xolo dogs are revered in Mexico since ancient times for their profound, otherworldly abilities. They are uniquely hairless and are considered to possess healing abilities, as well as guides for their Master on his/her journey to the spirit world. I decided to paint a dream I had of the end of the fifth sun, when the old paradigm departs and the sixth sun commences. In my painting, the xolos challenge Quetzalcoatl. The humans are in partnership with the xolos⏤conjuring the New Day. The female xolo with her newborn pups represent the coming of the sixth sun. We see the phases of the moon…the passage of time.
My true hope is to have a xolo. But for now, I can only visualize them as part of my world."

Bloom Where You Are Planted

Amy and I moved to our house in the village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca 331 days ago. It is on the outskirts of Oaxaca, the famous city in southern Mexico. We love our home and agree it is the best we have ever lived in. Built by a Mexican architect and his German agronomist wife, money was not an object and great love was poured into it from the beginning. It has survived two earthquakes with barely a crack or dislodged clay roof tile. 

We are Americans in Mexico with permanent resident status. Amy read somewhere that the first year living in Mexico is the most difficult. Certainly it was shocking at first, and even now, there are some aspects we don’t like. The change has been more difficult for Amy. I don’t exactly know why, but I have adjusted from the start⏤even though Amy is much better at speaking Spanish. It is probably because I have reinvented myself so many times in life. I have been around the world twice, lived in many poor countries, been a homeless wanderer, and lost my oldest daughter to cancer at age nineteen in 1999.  I learned this life is THE DREAM, and we do not control it. It is phenomenal, surprising, sparkling, terrible, dark, light filled, wonderful and dramatic. It is best not to resist, but rather be in it totally and observe intently.

It is evident Mexico is poorer than the USA. We live amidst poverty here. A preponderance of streets are broken and dirty, maimed dogs wander around aimlessly, most people do not have cars and rely on little “moto taxis”. Homes are nothing more than concrete block walls or tin shacks. We live in grandiosity compared to our neighbors. 

Yet good values can be seen in the way love exists in families. Often people can be seen walking hand in hand. There is plenty of laughter, music, and occasions for celebration. Mexicans love festivities and participate whole heartedly.

The cost of food is about 1/4th what the USA charges. It is good and fresh year round. Oaxaca has fabulous restaurants. Archeological sites abound and indigenous cultures have deep historical roots going back millenniums. The climate here stays comfortable year around. There are two seasons; dry and wet. Our home is made of adobe and has neither heating or cooling systems. It stays comfortable all the time.

During my hippie days in the 60´s I read a slogan painted on a wall, something from the flower child revolution: “Bloom where you are planted.”

DreamCarver

Book making is a wondrous and beautiful process. The best efforts are preserved for eternity, but most fall into oblivion. The book Amy and I are working on, called DreamCarver, has already proven to be an enduring work of art. It was first published in 1993 and became a traveling opera, visiting cities across America.

Diana Cohn and Amy collaborated on it. Publishers Weekly wrote: “Inspired by the life of renowned Oaxacan woodcarver Manuel Jiménez, newcomer Cohn and Córdova (My Land Sings) tell of Mateo, a young woodcarver who bravely breaks with a generations-old artistic tradition. The subsistence farmers of the boy's village are known for their juguetes, tiny carvings of wooden animals "so small they could fit in the palm of a hand," carved by men and boys, and painted in fiesta-bright colors by women and girls. But Mateo dreams of carving life-size animals, with surfaces that tingle with vibrant, improbable colors and surreal patterns. "I see animals so big and bright that I will need to carve them with a machete!" he tells his disapproving father. When Mateo ultimately produces a glorious wooden menagerie—including a quetzal with majestic feathers—he wins over not only Papa, but the entire village, and a new way of carving is born. Cohn captures the boy's pursuit with straightforward eloquence, whether describing a child's heady experience of a fiesta or articulating the imaginative forces that set apart and drive a true artist. Córdova chronicles Mateo's artistic development in radiant, double-spread tableaux, setting off the text with festive decorative borders. She borrows the highly stylized characterizations and flattened perspectives typical of Mexican folk art, but she animates the compositions with big, bold shapes and electric, saturated colors. A fitting tribute to the energy and power of an artist's distinctive vision.” 

From our perfect vantage point in our home in Oaxaca, just a village away from Arrazola where the woodcarvers make the “alebrijes” magic animals carved of wood and decorated with complex designs in a riot of colors, we are remaking the book with new illustrations and bilingual text.

Amy said, “Back in 1992, my dear friend, Diana Cohn and I visited Oaxaca with the intent of creating a children's book about the origins of the fantastical, colorful alebrije carvings. We visited Manuel Jimenez , who is attributed with starting the entire movement. As a result of our love of the art form, we created the book Dream Carver, which was published by Chronicle Books, San Francisco. Since then , our agreement has expired and we requested the return of rights. 

Fast forward, rights granted ! Since then, I have spent the last many months reworking and creating new images, with the goal of enhancing those images and creating a bilingual edition. Diana and I have revised the text, so that the format of two languages is not compromised. Steve has spent hours photographing and doing incredible layouts of text and image. Pages now look breathtaking! I am still painting. A labor of love, for certain.”

The Dream Carver tradition is alive and thrives today. The original artist, Manuel Jimenez, now deceased, passed his tradition to his sons, and one of them, Isaias, continues with his family to produce marvelous works. He opened the DreamCarver Museum and had students create murals based on Amy’s illustrations. He is very eager for the book, originally in English, to be published as a bilingual.

Our goal is to have books in hand for a big celebration at the Museum during the Dia de Muertos festival November 1 and 2, 2021.

Immigrant

I am now an immigrant, along with Amy. We have “Residente Permanente” visas from Mexico. It all happened rather suddenly but a huge change is happening to us. 

During travels over the past 15 years occasionally a thought would come that I might move from the USA—to Italy, to Thailand, or Ecuador. Amy and I have been married three years and after a trip to Oaxaca I casually looked online at properties down there and found one that grabbed me from head to foot with a price tag that, compared to similar properties here in Santa Fe, was an absolute steal. (See: Mexican Home)
That was over a year ago. Now we own the home and property—outright. It is our dream home and 3 times as much space as we currently have. We can live there for about 1/4 the monthly cost we are currently spending, in a culturally rich region with pleasant climate and easy access back to the USA. Our realtor, John, (see Real Estate Oaxaca) said it is the nicest home he has sold. (Does he say that to all his clients?) His partner said it has "soul".
Further, I have found most of my income is coming from sales of my work online. Amy and I now have better studios, a wonderful home and can continue being creative—expanding into new venues as well. All the while sharing our work online worldwide. 

In order to qualify to move all our belongings into Mexico (one time) without hassles and taxes, and also get free medical and dental care, as well as easy access in and out of the country, we needed a special visa. To begin, we found the nearest Mexican consulate. It is located in Albuquerque, New Mexico, an hour drive south of Santa Fe. They informed us of the requirements to start the process:
• Fill the Application
• Copy of passport (NOT EXPIRED) and COPIES of all the pages that have any visas or stamps.
• 1 passport size photo
• Past 12 months of bank statements (checking’s/savings)
• Social security administration letter with monthly income if applicable
• Pension income letter if applicable
• Proof of purchased property in Mexico, Escrituras, if applicable
• Letter from the bank, stating NAME, ACCOUNT NUMBER/S, LENGTH OF THE TIME YOU HAVE BEEN BANKING WITH THEM (MUST BE IN A BANK LETTERHEAD & SIGNED BY A BANK OFFICIAL).
• Typed letter stating reason for wanting to obtain a temporary or permanent visa (MUST BE SIGNED BY YOU & 1 PAGE MINIMUM)

•Marriage certificate if applicable (ORIGINAL)            

  
Once our application was approved, our passports were given a special stamp. We were told that we had 30 days (from our first entry into Mexico) to obtain our official “green” cards. On January 31 we flew to Oaxaca and six days later returned to Santa Fe—new homeowners and with our residente permanente cards.

To end this story, let me say that lately, every evening, Amy and I have been watching a program called Finding Your Roots on the PBS website Thirteen; “Presented and written by Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr., this series journeys deep into the ancestry of a group of remarkable individuals and provides new understanding of personal identity and American history.”  I have gained an invaluable perspective on the varied diaspora of immigrants that have come to the “new land” of America since before it's beginning as an independent nation. The people that were not slaves, prisoners or indentured servants, came looking for a new start at a better life. They came to escape dire conditions in their homelands and would face any hardship to pursue a dream of renewal and fruition. Often they arrived with nothing, strangers in a strange land, and it is a miracle to see present day descendants of these people discovering their ancestors for the first time on the program.

Me and John

Now, I know firsthand what it is to be a “stranger in a strange land” and feel kinship with all the immigrants of every era. Without our realtor John who is an American fluent in Spanish and lived and worked in Mexico for 36 years, along with his Mexican partner Luis, Amy and I would have been completely lost. We both agree that the hurdles of bureaucracy in Mexico for us—with limited Spanish language capability,  and all the appointments, waiting, and lacking necessary knowledge to attain our goals would have left us feeling helpless. At one point I admitted that without John, I would have given up in exhaustion and walked away from the deposit I made on the house. 

The day before returning to Santa Fe we had breakfast with a young man who has a moving business. We found him honest, eager and straightforward. He is recommended by John, and soon will be coming to Santa Fe to get our goods to take to our new home in Oaxaca.

See: Steven Boone artwork