I spend the day repainting what I have destroyed at night in a furious trance and altered states of creation. It creates some kind of alchemical harmony: in between balance and chaos. (equilibrium chaotic, ) ; intuition and knowledge in fusion.
After a phase of darkness, locked in the solitude of the studio for months creating art to be seen by no one, in alterate states- removed from the world, detached from everyone, It’s time for another rebirth, to go out to love, to embrace the sun, to dance into the universal wheel of creation, to speak out loud, to transform reality and the world, to touch and be touched- from the Bardo back to earth- out for compassion- It’s spring: it grows- I already feels her lips on mine- skin white turns to gold- soul black turns to rainbow.
Art trance-heart beating at a million speed- pace is too fast, too intense. No music matches my madness. My brushes at that speed trace perfect lines without even touching the canvas, the flow of my thoughts is out of control. I feel watched? Are they looking? I change the music a million times until a beat is taking me: bull running, bleeding- in the middle of the arena- nervously breaking though, escaping form truth- 200 colored skulls are staring at me, staring at me- I bite my lips.
(Anais Nin is the greatest visión of a woman. She contains all the other ones.) -waltz in c-sharp minor- Chopin played by Ingrid Filter
Mexico city, june 2nd.
Indigene- etherogene- entheogenia- trumpet player in the street- sitting in dirt-rusted trumpet- tongue blue- exile in agony- I come back to the surface, where water and oxygen kiss each other-I must keep this book close to me-antidote to destiny- two lovers kissing passionately on the wild wet streets-visit of the ecstasy evangelist- eyes flickering-I disappear into the music spirit-I make love with the piano piano piano- I am dissolving into him- huichol embrace.
June 8th, 2015.
I chase for spirits, something too abstract. I sail in between realities but I never really touch one- I paint a giant kite: that will take me for a ride. (I listen to Howling and it’s delicate laments of beauty)
I dig a hole in the middle of the studio-I am the strangest beast- lost in a sea of fantasy- I try to observe this morning but I always see though my filter- drowned in the infinity of my visions- my body is vibrating, pulsating, my left hand knows no rest-I wish I am a vagabond with no mission -sitting in the sun eyes blurry- drunk- head dancing at a fulgurant speed in tribal trance- surrounded by many bags of plastic filled with mysteries- comes back for a few minutes.- then he goes where no one knows- he goes- morning I am already so engaged into the intense realms of creation that I wonder how it will all explode at night- escalating ecstatic trance- or fury?