through art,our souls are saved

artists are the hands of an unknowable Spirit, a Spirit passing something unnamable, that the artist transmutes for the world to see…..

The Divine Feminine, encapsulated in the most ancient of memories and records. Repurposed again and again from Fertility Goddess, to a avenging murderous woman, to giving birth to unlimited Gods and Goddesses.
I choose this representation, Mary of — The Divine Feminine, encapsulated in the most ancient of memories and records. Repurposed again and again from Fertility Goddess, to a avenging murderous woman, to giving birth to unlimited Gods and Goddesses. I choose this representation, Mary of Many, for she has been and is and will be forever the portal of countless souls from the Universe. The sleeves, representing how her divinity is a puzzle and yet a Mother Earth rainbow, the black and white sleeves detailed, clean, stark knowledge. The Christ child is the cosmic perfection, a heart two lover's kissing, flowers flowing, covering both she and the child, sweetness.. She hold's the portal of creation within her praying hands. While her ear, a white pure circle, the opening our countless prayers enter. Energy radiating from the crown, yet dark mystery flows forth, with gold delicate trappings. Her hair flowing, shades of earths' sky blue, with traces of silver. And one black tear falls from her, towards the infinite universe. The last thing done was the painting of her face and chest, as if carved from a rich wood. She is earth, deeply rooted with the sea's and cloud's in her ripe full belly.

Brushes. Synthetic. Sabel. Well used, worn. Precious tools. Magic in their bristles flowing onto a canvas.

Religion.

FAITH

Effigies

FAITH

Asleep

But what saves one soul, will it save another?

LUST

Sex

Games

MADNESS

Danger

DRAMA

SEDUCTION

RAPE

SEDUCTION

RAPE

SEDUCTION

Breast Cancer for the curious. When you meet your possible undoing. Until you sleep whole, but a wake anew in the flesh, you lack a knowledge that only the experience itself can provide. Afraid to look at yourself for the first time, the mirror your enemy……..when the bandages come off. BUT having decided it is what it is, and the cancer is gone, there is only acceptance. Tracing the long glued incisions, purple bruises and unhappy flesh, realizing this is the new you.

This image has at least 3 painting’s within one. MY Cancer was a journey. Horses running through a portal, degloved, red, raw. A temple of the flesh in ruins. Delicate Ballerina’s dancing on glass shards, shadows of themselves. A pink Tulip held. A sky yellow in grief. Waterfalls, luscious blue, foaming. Delicate beauty. Delicate terror.