February 23, 2016
February 17, 2016

Is it raining? Is it sunshine? The day does not penetrate anymore into the studio- neither reality- so much art covering the windows- the studio haves now it´s own cosmogony- it’s own rotation system and it’s own mythology- it’s own gods and demons- it’s own prophecies- a cosmos in itself, an island, a place where the news and wars of the world do not come in- a cavern of lights and shadows- a temple of visions- boxing ring- theatre of the bardo- There is no hierarchy into this color pantheon: profane and sacred joined- creation and destruction joined- heaven and hell joined- there is no wrong or right- everything is energy- forces that pull and push me into the infinite spiral of creation-

From the inside- I am crossing a no mans land in between two kingdoms of experience- ivory knock on the piano of my soul: (Keith Jarret: koln concert and mad rush by Philipp glass)-) piano that plays and penetrate the surface of my canvas- piano player fingers on my skin- ivory kiss- it´s a carnival in my spirit- I contemplate immortality- an ideal- a quest- never an illusion- I run to it- I run from it, too. I remain as long possible in between - the dream of a thousand paintings- a suite a symphony- no beginning no end- and by that portal that may cross some- there is no spectators and no safety net- no witness- no salvation - only prevails the experience-

 intimacy inside of a seashell- enhanced- enchanted- entranced- will she lift the veil of my mystery? The speed of my exile made me blind- waterfall of colours- spell from the volcano- compassion in our burning open hands- we will dissolve into the night- into light- she brings virginity to my eyes that have been burned by so many- she brings joy to my hands that carved a dream for so many and faith to my heart that escaped so many.

What is sacred? what is holy? 

What is this thing that must be reached but that is still out of sight? 

Dedication-devotion-protection- manifestation- may we cross the gate- may we touch grace- I lick the wings of the angel- Icarus- may it bring what we have not experienced yet- goddess dressed in waterfall-  Oh my love, the fossil of your flesh  in my eyes burning in our ecstatic heavens glory.

February 5, 2016
February 3, 2016
in progress, at la bohemia in exile -mexico city
February 3, 2016
in progress, at la bohemia in exile -mexico city
February 1, 2016

Mexico city, april 2015 

ART STUDIO-la bohemia in exile- cuidad de Mexico- calle bolivar

journals 2015-2016


red curtain in flames- curse and  blessing in a mad erotic dance- a few days into the roller coaster have left me empty and lost -where to go from now? I find refuge in old books- relics of the catástrophes and glories of humanity, surrealistic collage- will I really know myself in this lifetime? It feels the more I dive deeper, the more it opens to other layers. In this quest of the infinite will there be a certain light, somewhere, that I will recognize as mine? Will I ever find peace? Eye drops of Sananga- burn- blind- open- clear- wide open- stolen vision from Amazonia-  grand collage: the dance of the blessed spirits- destruction of history- to restore vital energy- there is so much to paint, to live, to love, to discover- san pedro cactus powder-

I spend the day repainting what I have destroyed at night in a furious trance in altered states of creation.  It creates some kind of alchemical balance in a nuptial dance: in between harmony and chaos; intuition and knowledge in fusion or in battle.

After darkness- another rebirth-  embrace the sun- to dance into the universal wheel of creation-  to transform reality- to touch and be touched- from the Bardo back to the theatre of 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 full speed- my pace is too fast, too intense- there is to many visions to transmit into art-  no music matches my emotion- my brushes at that mad speed trace perfect lines without even touching the canvas- the flow of my thoughts is out of control. I change the music a million times until a beat is taking me: bull running bleeding praying- 200 colored skulls are staring at me-

Anais Nin is screaming delicate naked poetry around me- I make myself a dress with red curtain- ambassador of  Earth-  -waltz in c-sharp minor- Chopin piano- ivory fingers- Indigene- etherogene- entheogenia- trip tongue blue- exile in bloom- I come back to the surface, where water and oxygen kiss each other-I must keep this book close to me- antidote to destiny- teacher of immortality- my only protection- ecstasy evangelist- blue pill eyes flickering-I disappear into the music spirit-I make love with the piano -piano -piano- I am dissolving into sound- huichol embrace- 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 dig a hole in the middle of the studio-I am the strangest beast- bird or bull?- lost in a sea of fantasy- I try to observe but I always see though my filter- drowned in the intensity of my visions- my body is vibrating- pulsating- my left hand knows no rest- drunk- head dancing at a fulgurant speed in tribal trance- goes where no one knows. 

Early morning: I am already so deeply involved into the realms of creation that I wonder how it will all explode at night- escalating ecstatic trance- or fury?  -Oh mystery of everything, ghost of pleasure- Epicure- god of inspiration and imagination- you’ve put in my hands a creature of clay- levres immenses comme la chaire de l’huitre- lips open- beautiful addiction you make me see everything blue- you are a shamanic beast who restores joy- art of kissing- by a river of blood I came- by a river of blood I will go- black ink of the sky- giant octopus of desire over my head- wet- screaming lust-- Eros everywhere- Aphrodite living from my within- I run- I touch- I pray- I paint- I lick- I scream- I share- I climb- I reach- I penetrate- no time to fall down- we must stay high- maintain this vision- I sacrifice harmony for thrills- fingers of the sky caress me- I am flesh- I am poetry- I am art-  I am love- I must contribute to the universal light- I surrender to no power- I create a river- buddhist bells - chanting- I find peace for a few minutes- in between two paintings- oasis in my mind- golden land-monochrome heaven-  tower of wind- Amate paper-  obsession- dedication- I feel no joy, I feel no pain I paint.

I feel no joy, I feel no pain I paint.

  Sex with the spirit- skeleton erotic- exotic reunion of all desires- my brushes know no hesitation- never motionless- never step back to see- never analyse- never satisfied- never turned down- never a question- never in doubt- just on the channel- devoted -dedicated- in trance- one with the universe- never in a square- never a definition- never completing the circle- never on a line- taken by inspiration- never for an audience- creating for the holy- painting to survive- act of poetry- act of passion- act of rebellion- vision quest- scream of existence- never part of a movement- never following or leading-  never in reaction- never to predict- never to be part of history or to be remembered- never a premonition- never a memory- but whirling whirling in sacred ecstasy to be one with the universe- searching for the meaning of life and death- diving for pearls- to cross the great golden gate of the unknown and push away the limits of reality and to embrace the miracle and mystery of life- and death and love- to celebrate the miracle of our presence on Earth. 

I open a wax sealed block of Arches papers- cold press- handcrafted- rough cotton grain- it’s like to undress a beautiful woman- the most beautiful ritual- energy rises- I become an animal- painting at the speed of light many different canvas at the same time- I open a book about XX century art history-  I draw intuitive versions of modern paintings- oil pastel- from page to page and I really penetrate the fabric of this century- soul of these times- I am the modern hand- I appear at the other end with 200 drawings splattered on the floor- 2 bottles of wine emptied and the sunrise that kicks by the window some renew- I collapse but never surrender. 

Heavy rains in Mexico City- magical feeling of isolation in the studio- among painted spirits- something exceptional will happen- magic trap opens up to a garden of miracles- no witness- until sky opens up- uncertain times: will I die, will I live? Will I cross the gate? - knock of the drops on my heart: I write on the old typewriter a love letter to the sea- every word is a sound a song- war in my bed- dreams in convulsions- prophetic- erotic- kiss of one- she is everyone- she awakes- brave and naked- I found her- marble Venus