The Color of Interior Silence

I heard someone ask me last evening "what do you paint?" I paused and said "quiet moments". Inside I asked myself "why?" So today as I sit here and reflect. I realize that inside, my interior is everything but silent. A silent war.
More like Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket The only time there is silence is when I am painting.

Like a Moth to a Flame

A theory which has been advanced in an attempt to explain the attraction male moths have for candles specifically is based on olfaction. The spiky infrared spectra of a candle flame happens to contain a number of emission lines which coincide with the vibrational frequencies of the female moth's pheromone. The male moth is thereby powerfully attracted to the flame.

Watching the wood burn, we sat in silence. October seems colder than usual.
(oil on old book cover, $75)(SOLD)

to bring an end to care and worry...

(sold)





















(sold)










(sold)


In the evening with the nights getting colder, leaves changing, I have been reading In the land of Temple Caves.
Reflecting on Paleolithic cave paintings of SW France, time and vestige. This all leads me back to Gustaf Sobin and Luminous Debris-poetic archaeology, a spiritual travelogue through vanished time. Just realizing that in 2005 he passed away,
what was I doing that I missed this?
Fall .
We found ourselves along a country road, a day of picking apples, next to an old graveyard. A vineyard with grapes left to wither on the vine. And what about Dionysus?
and the Roman Bacchus?
The god of wine and madness. "Cult of the souls" and his ability to preside over communication between the living and the dead. and Liber ("the free one") was a god of fertility, wine, and growth.

He pulled at the vine and gave it to me. "For you to paint".