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A Night at the Opera

Mixed media on canvas

24” x 32”


Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

Close to the end of Bach’s life, he wrote the Mass in B minor (BWV 232) which gave vocal form to his earlier music. The piece was not performed during his lifetime.

When I put my headphones on and stare at the corner of my bedroom walls where the black painted wall meets the white painted wall, if and when I am sufficiently tranced-out, and I am listening to Bach’s Mass in B minor, I can have very rich, fully telepathic conversations with a hilarious black woman who I have come to suspect is my energy of the godhead. Actually, I do not know who she is. She is very far away, so I don’t think she can hear me crying out to her. Or, I am crazy. At the very least, she is a guide of some significance. I wish she came more often. I can never remember what we talk about. (That part’s pretty frustrating, I admit.) But I know that it is profound and comforting...and always quite funny. Sometimes, she takes control of my facial features (transfiguration) and I smile not of my own accord. This is a very strange feeling but not unpleasant or scary. She speaks Truth.

I am not afraid of this woman. Like me, I can feel that she is a real Diva. She loves drama and laughter. She loves tempestuous storms. She is my friend. She is there completely for me and I feel her wisdom is partially my own unrecovered inner knowledge which I am only now remembering.

I know this sounds very crazy, very crazy indeed, but I am not convinced by you or the outside world that I am crazy. Instead, I will believe that I am experiencing something rare, and I am not afraid to share it with you. It represents to all of us a kind of Hope that this is not all there is. The woman is nothing to be afraid of. Perhaps she is a metaphor. Perhaps she is me. I do not know. I will not speculate, only tell you the Truth as it happens to me.


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