Root images and transmutation
Root images and transmutation
Root images and transmutation
Back that year in Barcelona a friend who was raised a Catholic but that had several differences with the church told me about this dream. There, she was constantly moving into an immense mountain without beginning nor ends. The mountain was simultaneously the face, the chest and the dress of Mary, mother of Jesus. Afterwards she dream of death. There she was, floating in a realm without any characteristics: no temperature, no light nor shadows, and a limit between the presence and the absence of your own body.
I told her that I experienced something similar. Than sometimes internal processes materialize in ways we cannot explain or refuse to embrace. For her I painted a small Virgin with a blind gaze. Following, a Virgin with immense hands.
The Virgin’s gaze, ironic and calmed, met my friend’s house as a new animal enters a territory. She went home with both paintings and stared at the blind Virgin, then at the second one, with her lively gaze, and processed that as coming into seeing things again. She asked me for a favour. 'Could you paint her with the Holy fetus floating by her hand?' With this message, a photo from Daido Moriyama, her favorite photographer.
My friend’s message after a month: ‘We are able to operate within ourselves with the contemplation of certain images that became shallow for us along our lives, but that nevertheless persist. With your gift, I was able to go to the roots of my own psyche’.
Back that year in Barcelona a friend who was raised a Catholic but that had several differences with the church told me about this dream. There, she was constantly moving into an immense mountain without beginning nor ends. The mountain was simultaneously the face, the chest and the dress of Mary, mother of Jesus. Afterwards she dream of death. There she was, floating in a realm without any characteristics: no temperature, no light nor shadows, and a limit between the presence and the absence of your own body.
I told her that I experienced something similar. Than sometimes internal processes materialize in ways we cannot explain or refuse to embrace. For her I painted a small Virgin with a blind gaze. Following, a Virgin with immense hands.
The Virgin’s gaze, ironic and calmed, met my friend’s house as a new animal enters a territory. She went home with both paintings and stared at the blind Virgin, then at the second one, with her lively gaze, and processed that as coming into seeing things again. She asked me for a favour. 'Could you paint her with the Holy fetus floating by her hand?' With this message, a photo from Daido Moriyama, her favorite photographer.
My friend’s message after a month: ‘We are able to operate within ourselves with the contemplation of certain images that became shallow for us along our lives, but that nevertheless persist. With your gift, I was able to go to the roots of my own psyche’.
Back that year in Barcelona a friend who was raised a Catholic but that had several differences with the church told me about this dream. There, she was constantly moving into an immense mountain without beginning nor ends. The mountain was simultaneously the face, the chest and the dress of Mary, mother of Jesus. Afterwards she dream of death. There she was, floating in a realm without any characteristics: no temperature, no light nor shadows, and a limit between the presence and the absence of your own body.
I told her that I experienced something similar. Than sometimes internal processes materialize in ways we cannot explain or refuse to embrace. For her I painted a small Virgin with a blind gaze. Following, a Virgin with immense hands.
The Virgin’s gaze, ironic and calmed, met my friend’s house as a new animal enters a territory. She went home with both paintings and stared at the blind Virgin, then at the second one, with her lively gaze, and processed that as coming into seeing things again. She asked me for a favour. 'Could you paint her with the Holy fetus floating by her hand?' With this message, a photo from Daido Moriyama, her favorite photographer.