Highway Guadalajara-mazatlan
-Try this one day, t not too often , it is very dangerous, but the thrill is high, and it teaches you something.
Go ride on a car alone, play music. Choose a fast road, with curves and hills and other asymmetric elements. And masturbate while driving, without any erotic thoughts with your focus on the road, for a very long time. A battle will rise between between the road and your pleasure, climbing like tides. Chase away all sexual images, even if they come back stronger. Orgasm will come close to the surface, but a dangerous curve on the road will bring your soul back. The close orgasm will go away, like returning tide, and will want to come back slowly, growing inside you. Do not crash, do not think about other cars or humans, empty your head, stop your inner dialogue.
Let yourself go inside this internal battle, and at one moment, after many hills up and downs, you will explode into one of the most vibrant, deepest, and strongest orgasm of your life; and orgasm so long, in layers, suspended in time, in you.
At one point, you will totally forget that you are driving, your vision will become blurry, and slowly, reality will fade in, like a motion picture.
This little death game will teach you something, that you can apply to sex in other contexts. Something very vivid: about the waves of visions, the emptiness of thoughts, about the tides growing, learn how to create ascending waves, about the distance between the body and the spirit, the superposition of the both, the physical agony to reach deeper pleasure, the longevity of the orgasm.
THE ALCHEMIc WEDDING BETWEEN THE VISIONS AND THE ACTIONS.
And now apply this when you make love.
Mazatlan, in transit
I taste solitude like a unique and strange fruit.
The dance of the wind in the palms of the palm trees is one of the most vivid psychedelic experience you can dive into nature. An automatic door to beautiful trance. It is pure expression of asymmetric geometry
-Horizon line, horizon line, take me to the divine.
And the sunset is invading my soul, like the master of my dream. And there is nothing to do, she haves the key, celestial beauty,
Solitude with you
Boats scream- light house-call of the siren I run blinded. Can my hand exist without a pencil? Or a brush? Can my fingers travel without skin? I am becoming just a channel: what happening on the surface only feeds the invisible, the visions? My body is just a tool for the transmission of a vision.
I shall drink tonight, drink until I see. Drink until you are with me, drink until I am you.
The garden of delight.
Sunrise on the ocean. You pull me with gold invisible strings. All my movements create a line of light, kaleidoscope of magic visual mantras.
Everything you have to learn is hidden in nature. I walk in circles, with no angles, I try to not touch the concrete, to levitate, above. I do not travel in dead ends anymore. I travel to another dimension, a switch of consciousness, pushing through with violence, a radical change that leads me to new roads, a new system, a shamanic silence, a deeper breathe, fast trance , exile, escape, exode , rewriting legends.
I am taking the road again today, I am excited.
I could not go back to America now and destroy my fragile state of being: this inner euphoria that lead the artist to great paintings.
Long deep solitude is the key to achieve deeper creation.
My time is coming my hand is dancing.
The vision is growing, I am coming closer to the gates ,of my secret alphabet.
My soul is released, there is no more boundaries to my explorations. The more I will dive deeper the more magic will appear, the channel is open.
It is when you paint the most profound and insane things that in fact, you reach the universal consciousness, and you touch people. All we really have to say is hidden in our differences: what make us unique. We are our extremes, the middle just make us humans. We are what most of the time we refuse to ourselves. Our knowledge makes us stand; our dreams make us love and fly. We are the invisible.
tacubaya:- my seconds, today, as many as there is, are dedicated to you,
TO FLOAT IN SPACE ---TO FLOAT IN GRACE
I told her:
-if you want to know if a stranger is a good love maker, stare at his or her hands: see their movements and you will know. Because hands cannot lie, they are directly connected to the soul and we cannot really control them in our daily operations.
Hands are the door to the soul.
Hands are free and know no enemy.
Hands are free to write abstract poetry.
Geometric shapes into the air.
Hands are ballerinas without choreography, wings without bodies, your gate keepers,
Your hands will guide you through the light, in the dark, your hands will make love to you. Hands are shaped by the things to come.
Hands carve into air invisible sculpture, hands trace your secret alphabet.
Hands draw into the air all your secrets, while you talk on the surface.
Hands , fossils form your ancestors
Hands, songs from the sirens,
Hands, explorers from the unknown sea
Hands, holder of your destiny
Hands, architectures of your invocation,
Hands, nuptial dancers
Hands, lovers.
Pacific coast:
--she says: set my spirit free
Today is suspension, abstract meditation. Today is soft agony, the wind contains sulfur. I hang on these pages like if they we’re an anchor, a sailboat, a way out. The only field to run into. I hang on this book like if it was my last day, my last words to say.
Soundtrack- road to nowhere by talking heads
I saw a flying dragon, just before sunset, a powerful symbol of beauty.
All women are becoming you. What will happen tonight will remain unknown: erased from my own memory
I SILENCE.
Free of witness, the science of dreams, our existence is a secret garden, a mystical game board with so many detours.
I will build a castle, a sand castle for you: with a kingdom as big as the beach go, a kingdom where soldiers will be lovely crabs, princes will be animals from ancient times, myths of beauty, I will celebrate our love, I will roll on the sand, creating a tactile mandala, I will love you into the ocean, I will praise our light, into the night, I will climb to the moon.
Tacubaya:
A mysterious sign in the sky teaches me to remain silent, to wait, and stare, and vanish into the stars. Accumulate energy: just becoming an animal, stay away from the human race, prepare the field. I paint in silence, without music, just the echoes from the waves.
The sky is telling me: prepare yourself, something big will happen, a strong revelation, impossible to control, a tidal wave of light will take you to secret countries,
It will take us where we never been: in between the wings of the butterfly, in between the legs of the universe, at the point of the pyramid, in a nest made of gold rays, into an egg, into the invisible kingdom of the timeless existence.
List
1-purified water
2-centered mirror drawings
3-desert beach
4-half silence
5- blind manifestation
6-sleep
7-art for the birds
I am my own target, the own victim of my thoughts, I am never free from myself: a constant machine of transformation. Everything can become art, at any moment.
There is always this rage, this scream of freedom, this sign somewhere, this stroke to paint, this world to change: this intense sound in my head: these dragons on fire in my hands, this electricity in my body, this constant erotic desire. I am always on the edge of an illumination, on the edge of death, my wings spread into the fire, I trance.
Maybe I just cannot see things just the way they are anymore, maybe I am too deep into my visions to come back to the surface. Life is a constant vision, with no interruption, sleeping, awake, it is the pursuit of the same images, I am hunting for the ultimate free image, the universal symbol of freedom.
The perfect hermaphrodite.
There is no real rest, the vision quest is eternal, one door leading fast to the other door, filling space, transforming itself, creating new shapes, new patterns, joining different architectures, bridges, bridges made of flesh, new anatomies, connecting the dots at the speed of light to offer a new existence system.
And I close my eyes.
Morning rise
My body walks with no destination, my soul follows a different path.
Every minute is so long, I try to compress the seconds but the opposite happens, every minute, a whole vision of you appears, in full color, on the screen of the sky.
I remain motionless, this morning, no brushstrokes seem to fit my emotions.
Broken seal. words falling from the sky, fruits falling from the trees, angels falling in my dream. My eyes create a kaleidoscope: thousands of geometrical shapes: a good way to walk on the streets.
ART shall be the manifestation of shamanism at the gates of the new millennium. Art shall break through all fears, art shall creates new mysteries
Art shall heals, art shall feed the visions of the higher states.
Art shall trace new archetypes
Art shall bring back all ancestors to the surface
Art shall protect us from immobility
Art shall be the bridge between life and death.
Art shall be the evocation, the key, the risk, the provocation, the charming secret whisper.
Art shall pushes us further, art shall gather us together, like a fire.
Art knows no limits,
Art knows.
Art shall fascinates, illuminate, destroy our limitations, create a link between all humans, create a rope of light, art shall praise and destroy at the same time all traditions. Art shall seeks new ways by teaching ancient ways.
Art shall seeks spirits, chase beauty, capture infinity, art shall be the voice of the dead, art shall lead us to euphoria, to loose control, for a few moments, art shall save us for regularity.
Art shall be the voice of the inner revolution, the voice of eroticism, the voice of magic,
Art shall make us bigger, art shall make us travel deeper.
List of artists
1-pablo Picasso
2-robert Rauschenberg
3-jean-michel basquiat
4-antoni tapies
5-cy twombly
6-gustave moreau
7-yves klein
8-karel appel
9-pierre alechinsky
10-henri matisse
11-peter beard
12-paul Gauguin
13-motherwell
14-garouste
solstice at full moon
I am back with the ocean, I sleep very close to her, I sleep with her cycles, she is my theater, outside is inside.
Sand.
Again
An animal
An animal who paints
Without voice
With no other intentions
Paint breathe paint
Channel the vision
Paint breathe paint
I do not think with words anymore, my inner dialogue is made of images.
The key is into the nature to reach a state of trance.
8:42 full moon, total eclipse
one girl says about my painting:
-it’s crazy, this is exactly what we should see when we dream.
And I smile, because I am painting the lost dreams of the modern society: new archetypes, our nights are too busy with the dust of our days to really dream freely.
ASHES FROM THE HUICHOL FIRE
A painting made on the beach, a few meters from the ocean, will carry forever the power of nature, the inner peaceful power, the radiant energy of the sunset. This is why I paint outside, in a studio without limits, influenced by the sand and the winds, the flight of the pelicans and the mysterious sunset: natural mandala.
The beautiful struggle to make a painting outside will give to this painting a magic force. I paint with salt water, the brushes are destroyed in one day . Wind carries sand over the images, wet strokes.
The softness and irregularity of the sand create different shapes: my brush is dancing in miniature sand dunes. The humidity, the Mexican fishermen, amused and fascinated transform the painting ritual
For the period of the making of the painting, the canvas will remain outside, offered to the variations of the universe, victim of rains playing with the rays of the moon, accumulating power.
This painting is becoming a labyrinth to reach nature, a key to the universal pattern.
I am a spiral into a seashell, I reach the origin.
The origin of time, the origin of myself.
I climb the giant seashell, barefoot, giant pearl.
I climb the giant seashell to hear giant ocean echoes. I need to amplify reality, a deep journey, a kick, a dangerous thrill. Furious visions, I need to explode.
!!!
My technique of painting could be called -archeology for the reverse side-
I mean by that, that I paint treasures: words, poems, symbols and I cover them with other images, in layers, I believe their power is still inside the painting, emanating from under.
I search the world, over and over, I send myself to unstable situations; new languages, I provoke changes, I push myself into new territories. I do not escape from fear, I dive to learn, I do not escape from solitude, I seek into the silence. Failure do not exist when intuition lead your creation. All the accidents drive your composition.
I seek for gates, I do not look back, the passage to wisdom is above ahead, doors are opening, most of the times you cross them before you can see them. Visions are merging labyrinths are becoming spirals and seem to lead to somewhere. There is. Crop circle.
Visions, deeper they go, are becoming harder and harder to share, and the deeper you step in, the harder it is to come back to the surface.
The key is lucid dreams.
The key is to remain invisible in the light
The key is to dive without fear
The key is to risk everything you are.
The key is you.
Anita said: -Hypnotic dance, erotic trance
Snake charmer, beauty seeker
Life provider
Existence reminder
Free runner
Naked lover
The surface becomes a futile place: a waste of time compare to the infinite possibilities of the visionary world.
It feels that, at one point, your physical body in reality is just the tool for the journey of the spirit.
The visionary world is limitless but fragile, delicate, in total suspension,
What are we looking for while we are down here, in this lifetime? Are we just looking to fill a number, little happiness? Comfort? Or are we looking for thrills, deep kicks? Some noise? Do we really have to fill our role in reality? Do we have a mission to make this destruction machine ride faster? Do we all have to be like this?
I always taught that the universe will carry us, whatever happens. The cycle of nature will protect us, feed us, allow us to experience freedom, and if we are strong and passionate enough, bring us on a different path.
Every breathe is rebirth.
We shall seek for the extraordinary
We shall seek for the irrational, the tactile, the invisible
The impossible, we shall seek for the last days of our lives, everyday. We shall no rest, we shall be our own nest.
MYSTIFICATION, EROTIC , ART, EXPERIENCE,
###I am a spy, in your house of love, I know your dream , that you are dreaming of, I know everyone you know, I know everywhere you go### jim Morrison
my heroes today: jim Morrison, allen ginsberg, terence mckenna
the music is so loud I cannot hear you around, your wings are faded echoes --movement is the only redemption, fast, roads and hills and deserts. I cannot hear your mind, ###my hands are crazy they draw without me###
Your portrait appears on a paper, climbing a palmtree, climbing on me.
Sonora, Desierto del gran altar
Yage,yage,yage
I touch golden sand. A tongue of sand. I cry, of beauty, timeless coma, I paint with my feet in the sand, crop circle, earth mandala, I paint without witness, the wind is leading my movements.
The road becomes the tongue of the cobra, dangerous but sublime, eccentric asymmetry
At the frontier: endless rusted metal wall , cutting the desert in two, like the separation of hermaphrodite, the mouth of the devil, the scarf of possession, the cry of the coyote, seeking for friendship.
I cried because earth is giving me back, at this moment, all the beauty that I ever gave to her. She welcomes me into her kaleidoscope, the birth and the end of humanity under my eyes . 2012: 3 years to see, to carve into the universal consciousness a new shape, a pyramid in circle, a new geometry.
For many hours I forgot that I was driving, I totally vanished into the landscape, fingers from earth, cactus caressing the wild sky.
And the voice of tacubaya came to me, like a butterfly in a hurricane.
Like a vision
I could see her voice.
The sounds we’re angels dancing under my eyes. Teachers of a new road, I stopped the engine. And I walked.
I became a windmill, vulnerable powerful
Depending on the winds,
I transformed the wind into energy.
And energy into you.
Modern don quichote. Rising alone, rising alone, I catched the sun in between my fingers, I made him rolling in my palm, burning my destiny.
I set myself on fire.
I provoke an eclipse
I follow my shadow on the sand
Revolving soul
Whirling dervish, ferris wheel.
I climb the sky to the clouds.
I leave no trace, I move so fast,
I am drowning into a waterfall of visions
I leave no trace, I travel in grace
A stainless steel snake cuts planet earth in two, perfect line, concrete fascination, traveling animals, nomads, limits are death, beyond, bird of prey revolves around me, flesh, anatomy, a garden of explorations,
Coyotes eat in my hands, I paint with my fingers, imaginary trees .
Migration butterflies, monarch, orange flight.
Tijuana:
This must be the most chaotic place on planet earth. It is almost beautiful in it’s own decadence. It is the last dance, the last day of humanity, romantic apocalypses, collapse and rebirth, dirty, tongue, loud, sexual, without emergency exit, a pyramid without windows, Tijuana is a roller coaster, rusted, screaming, haunting, 2000 years after the end. A place for survivors and haunted desires.
I go to draw in strip bars: women with legs open like bridges to nowhere.
I let my brush go, without me, tracing the vultures, the ambient war, the dangerous corners, the beautiful old woman buying fruits at the street corner.
U.S.A frontier: Mexicans seeking for a pale blue sky, death is near.
LOS ANGELES
Chaos is vital to freedom: when things are becoming too organized, freedom becomes impossible.
Intuition is a key to freedom.
Sinister euphoria, a beautiful decay, and the end of the world will be just like this. Everybody will fall asleep slowly in a grand illusion. Everybody is loosing their soul slowly, running for new cars, fast swimming pools, luxurious noises: the apocalypses will be a slow long fading death. We will erase ourselves: when our souls will be totally erased, never we will know we are just machines.
-and the end will just be like this.
The smog over Los Angeles is not just pollution, it is also the spirits, leaving bodies, floating in air, without channel: a big swimming pool of lost souls . There will be no panic, no screams, there will be no more spirits to stand and fight.
The world will end in a square. But the planet will remain a circle.
Overview: Again, I am seeking for an art store, I am cold turkey, a hole.
A gathering hole for the underground spirits.
I think that every painting is a hole for ancient spirits to come back to these times, a gate they can cross to come and see, a passage for them to come back.
And on the other side, the hole is open for the viewer to dive into the world of the spirits.
The painting is the bridge between the different levels, the different worlds.
VENICE BEACH
A few ghost in faded sun. emptiness. Desolation boulevard. A furious black crow, fast dream, cold winds, a new painting, secret euphoria,
Perfect citizen perfect agony, exit. Exile. Broken harmony.
Mexican lamentations. ABANDONED HORSETRACKS. Highways. Many women make one.
Trance no. 1. : a condition intermediate between sleep and wake fullness.
2. a dreamlike state.
3- a state of deep abstraction
Here I am, after 4 months on the road, chasing imaginary spirits, in a state of total abstraction, disconnected, lost but illuminated. Alone with 20 000 dancing spirits.
I shall dive in a painting to erase time.
Paint a portrait of the sea, of you, of us, feeding imaginary birds, chasing the dragon away.
So I walk on the beach, bright lights in. time out,
And seconds now are so long, an expansion, there is a whole life in between them.
I walk in circles, I stare at birds, burn imaginary flames. I paint my own flag.
I dance with a woman made of feathers.
I feel so distant, I escape from any eye contact, I remain in my trance, fragile but untouchable.
Humanity is vanishing around me. I exist in ancient times. Before man, I wait for eve, at the street corner, tempted by cheap drugs, easy sex slow sun, traveling on a bird,
It is so windy my canvas is flying on the beach. It is so windy it is impossible to trace a line in time.
Small ferris wheel: venice beach is a ghost, ashes of visions, movement in memory.
Enigmatic solitude: something is pulling me away: like an invisible swan from another time coming to take me from civilization: I heard a call, her call. I am leading to silence, I am leading to the last dance, I am navigating to the silk roads, secret destination.
Vertical infinity sign: a new painting, a different icon to kill time
To assassinate destiny, I just make her appear. I paint with metal powders, metallic dust, red wine.
Joshua tree desert:
We sleep at the gates of the desert: dust covers reality. She is transforming my dreams, new visions are coming when I sleep close to her, kaleidoscope of purity, the construction of a new world, a gold path. In her arms, I can abandon myself, become fragile, open all gates, I can abandon all protection, give birth to new images.
A new architecture of my dreams, I dive in a circle, million of rays of light are dancing around us. A silent symphony.
I open her legs, I open her soul, we dive.
Making love to her is visiting the wisdom tree., writing new prophecy,
Set us free: they are calling our name.
We reach another state: the mysterious state of joy, art ,happiness, levitation.
I tell her: Your perfume is my key, to complete the circle.
Another day in Venice:
killing helicopters, gentle noise, romantic conspiracy peaceful lover, you are the target, black and white, a chain reaction without movement.
Again .killing helicopters. Great American hero. Lost translators, useless power, I found an empty tower, a refuge,
And I carve into the concrete:
-America without you is an empty white room.
America without you is an amusement park without electricity.
An ocean without water
A sky scraper without sky
I lick my sword, in silence, I replay with passion all our choreographies.
I lay on my shadow
Shadow disappears.
You are in me.
How can you be excited by electric light when you just dived into a volcano?.
How can you be stimulated by music when you just made love with silence?
Feed me, hold me , reveal me.
Los angeles
There is no room to escape here, there is always a television around, loud, proud,, dramatic news from the inside, loud voices, cars, even the sound of the ocean is drowned into distortion. Insanity, here, is a corporation, revolution is an institution,
But my inspiration is high, and I go to paint on the beach everyday, even if it’s cold , even if the beach is loaded with blind beggars, sons of bob Marley and heroin salesmen, abortion preacher, sons of jim Morrison.
I paint a garden,
i wrote on a wall words for you
poetry from another century
i killed time
i assassinated seconds
one by one
building a bridge to you
i walked in spiral, into a giant seashell
to reach infinity
i dived to seek for pearls
i played with blind children
i repainted a flag
i created a new country
just for us
And I prepare my departure, my long journey to cross America
West to east.
Alone, crossing .
How many minutes do I really have to tell you everything?
Mechanical helicopters in constant chase, hunting for irregularity among the eccentrics, murders, lovers, ice cream, fast weddings,
Wheel traces on the sand: to clean to protect.
Direct tv: news before they happen.
It is time to escape los angeles: they call my name, somewhere, lost.
I must belong to another century, to another speed.
I cross all America without writing a word: I was just a filter, without one drawing, I became a ghost with holes, the landscape took me,
Read all the Kerouac books, thousand times, but you will really understand this feeling only when you will really take the road.
The vast infinite roads will remain unknown to you until you abandon yourself to them. The vacant solitude, delivery, universal spleen,
When all toughs are vanishing and you are loosing your voice,
Nomadic visions,
The poets are in wax museums now, the highway is invaded by state patrol and delivery trucks, the era of consummation is well established,
We make, we deliver, we buy, we use, we throw away,( repeat again again, daily)
A road trip is just another to chase yourself.
I paint in giant white letters on a rock in Colorado:
HANDLE WITH CARE
LIVE WITH PASSION
USE YOUR SILENCE
REDUCE NOISE
CREATE A SPACE
FOR EXPANSION
SET YOURSELF ON FIRE
PROVOKE YOUR OWN ILLUMINATION
Serial lover.
i sang our song
and the birds came
bu hundreds
by thousands
magicians from all around the world arrived, one by one, with mysterious
joy and smoke,
wizards,eagles, hermaphrodite , black elk, epicure, they all came to celebrate the new kingdom: a secret place inside us
we danced around the new flag
i walk unbalanced
i walk in silence
i walk in a strange symmetry
i seek for you
my perfect geometry
i lift my fists to the sky
to the moon
to the free spirits
i paint calligraphy on the skin of the sky
open your arms, i will visit you tonight
open your eyes, open your legs
you are not my exile, you are my promised land.
I said to her:
-protect yourself from normality
Run , run free. You are made of the moments that you loose control. All the other moments, you are just a human, nothing more, just a number, filling a little hole.
it blows all ashes.it leaves no trace behind. (Tinariwen.)
-Try this one day, t not too often , it is very dangerous, but the thrill is high, and it teaches you something.
Go ride on a car alone, play music. Choose a fast road, with curves and hills and other asymmetric elements. And masturbate while driving, without any erotic thoughts with your focus on the road, for a very long time. A battle will rise between between the road and your pleasure, climbing like tides. Chase away all sexual images, even if they come back stronger. Orgasm will come close to the surface, but a dangerous curve on the road will bring your soul back. The close orgasm will go away, like returning tide, and will want to come back slowly, growing inside you. Do not crash, do not think about other cars or humans, empty your head, stop your inner dialogue.
Let yourself go inside this internal battle, and at one moment, after many hills up and downs, you will explode into one of the most vibrant, deepest, and strongest orgasm of your life; and orgasm so long, in layers, suspended in time, in you.
At one point, you will totally forget that you are driving, your vision will become blurry, and slowly, reality will fade in, like a motion picture.
This little death game will teach you something, that you can apply to sex in other contexts. Something very vivid: about the waves of visions, the emptiness of thoughts, about the tides growing, learn how to create ascending waves, about the distance between the body and the spirit, the superposition of the both, the physical agony to reach deeper pleasure, the longevity of the orgasm.
THE ALCHEMIc WEDDING BETWEEN THE VISIONS AND THE ACTIONS.
And now apply this when you make love.
Mazatlan, in transit
I taste solitude like a unique and strange fruit.
The dance of the wind in the palms of the palm trees is one of the most vivid psychedelic experience you can dive into nature. An automatic door to beautiful trance. It is pure expression of asymmetric geometry
-Horizon line, horizon line, take me to the divine.
And the sunset is invading my soul, like the master of my dream. And there is nothing to do, she haves the key, celestial beauty,
Solitude with you
Boats scream- light house-call of the siren I run blinded. Can my hand exist without a pencil? Or a brush? Can my fingers travel without skin? I am becoming just a channel: what happening on the surface only feeds the invisible, the visions? My body is just a tool for the transmission of a vision.
I shall drink tonight, drink until I see. Drink until you are with me, drink until I am you.
The garden of delight.
Sunrise on the ocean. You pull me with gold invisible strings. All my movements create a line of light, kaleidoscope of magic visual mantras.
Everything you have to learn is hidden in nature. I walk in circles, with no angles, I try to not touch the concrete, to levitate, above. I do not travel in dead ends anymore. I travel to another dimension, a switch of consciousness, pushing through with violence, a radical change that leads me to new roads, a new system, a shamanic silence, a deeper breathe, fast trance , exile, escape, exode , rewriting legends.
I am taking the road again today, I am excited.
I could not go back to America now and destroy my fragile state of being: this inner euphoria that lead the artist to great paintings.
Long deep solitude is the key to achieve deeper creation.
My time is coming my hand is dancing.
The vision is growing, I am coming closer to the gates ,of my secret alphabet.
My soul is released, there is no more boundaries to my explorations. The more I will dive deeper the more magic will appear, the channel is open.
It is when you paint the most profound and insane things that in fact, you reach the universal consciousness, and you touch people. All we really have to say is hidden in our differences: what make us unique. We are our extremes, the middle just make us humans. We are what most of the time we refuse to ourselves. Our knowledge makes us stand; our dreams make us love and fly. We are the invisible.
tacubaya:- my seconds, today, as many as there is, are dedicated to you,
TO FLOAT IN SPACE ---TO FLOAT IN GRACE
I told her:
-if you want to know if a stranger is a good love maker, stare at his or her hands: see their movements and you will know. Because hands cannot lie, they are directly connected to the soul and we cannot really control them in our daily operations.
Hands are the door to the soul.
Hands are free and know no enemy.
Hands are free to write abstract poetry.
Geometric shapes into the air.
Hands are ballerinas without choreography, wings without bodies, your gate keepers,
Your hands will guide you through the light, in the dark, your hands will make love to you. Hands are shaped by the things to come.
Hands carve into air invisible sculpture, hands trace your secret alphabet.
Hands draw into the air all your secrets, while you talk on the surface.
Hands , fossils form your ancestors
Hands, songs from the sirens,
Hands, explorers from the unknown sea
Hands, holder of your destiny
Hands, architectures of your invocation,
Hands, nuptial dancers
Hands, lovers.
Pacific coast:
--she says: set my spirit free
Today is suspension, abstract meditation. Today is soft agony, the wind contains sulfur. I hang on these pages like if they we’re an anchor, a sailboat, a way out. The only field to run into. I hang on this book like if it was my last day, my last words to say.
Soundtrack- road to nowhere by talking heads
I saw a flying dragon, just before sunset, a powerful symbol of beauty.
All women are becoming you. What will happen tonight will remain unknown: erased from my own memory
I SILENCE.
Free of witness, the science of dreams, our existence is a secret garden, a mystical game board with so many detours.
I will build a castle, a sand castle for you: with a kingdom as big as the beach go, a kingdom where soldiers will be lovely crabs, princes will be animals from ancient times, myths of beauty, I will celebrate our love, I will roll on the sand, creating a tactile mandala, I will love you into the ocean, I will praise our light, into the night, I will climb to the moon.
Tacubaya:
A mysterious sign in the sky teaches me to remain silent, to wait, and stare, and vanish into the stars. Accumulate energy: just becoming an animal, stay away from the human race, prepare the field. I paint in silence, without music, just the echoes from the waves.
The sky is telling me: prepare yourself, something big will happen, a strong revelation, impossible to control, a tidal wave of light will take you to secret countries,
It will take us where we never been: in between the wings of the butterfly, in between the legs of the universe, at the point of the pyramid, in a nest made of gold rays, into an egg, into the invisible kingdom of the timeless existence.
List
1-purified water
2-centered mirror drawings
3-desert beach
4-half silence
5- blind manifestation
6-sleep
7-art for the birds
I am my own target, the own victim of my thoughts, I am never free from myself: a constant machine of transformation. Everything can become art, at any moment.
There is always this rage, this scream of freedom, this sign somewhere, this stroke to paint, this world to change: this intense sound in my head: these dragons on fire in my hands, this electricity in my body, this constant erotic desire. I am always on the edge of an illumination, on the edge of death, my wings spread into the fire, I trance.
Maybe I just cannot see things just the way they are anymore, maybe I am too deep into my visions to come back to the surface. Life is a constant vision, with no interruption, sleeping, awake, it is the pursuit of the same images, I am hunting for the ultimate free image, the universal symbol of freedom.
The perfect hermaphrodite.
There is no real rest, the vision quest is eternal, one door leading fast to the other door, filling space, transforming itself, creating new shapes, new patterns, joining different architectures, bridges, bridges made of flesh, new anatomies, connecting the dots at the speed of light to offer a new existence system.
And I close my eyes.
Morning rise
My body walks with no destination, my soul follows a different path.
Every minute is so long, I try to compress the seconds but the opposite happens, every minute, a whole vision of you appears, in full color, on the screen of the sky.
I remain motionless, this morning, no brushstrokes seem to fit my emotions.
Broken seal. words falling from the sky, fruits falling from the trees, angels falling in my dream. My eyes create a kaleidoscope: thousands of geometrical shapes: a good way to walk on the streets.
ART shall be the manifestation of shamanism at the gates of the new millennium. Art shall break through all fears, art shall creates new mysteries
Art shall heals, art shall feed the visions of the higher states.
Art shall trace new archetypes
Art shall bring back all ancestors to the surface
Art shall protect us from immobility
Art shall be the bridge between life and death.
Art shall be the evocation, the key, the risk, the provocation, the charming secret whisper.
Art shall pushes us further, art shall gather us together, like a fire.
Art knows no limits,
Art knows.
Art shall fascinates, illuminate, destroy our limitations, create a link between all humans, create a rope of light, art shall praise and destroy at the same time all traditions. Art shall seeks new ways by teaching ancient ways.
Art shall seeks spirits, chase beauty, capture infinity, art shall be the voice of the dead, art shall lead us to euphoria, to loose control, for a few moments, art shall save us for regularity.
Art shall be the voice of the inner revolution, the voice of eroticism, the voice of magic,
Art shall make us bigger, art shall make us travel deeper.
List of artists
1-pablo Picasso
2-robert Rauschenberg
3-jean-michel basquiat
4-antoni tapies
5-cy twombly
6-gustave moreau
7-yves klein
8-karel appel
9-pierre alechinsky
10-henri matisse
11-peter beard
12-paul Gauguin
13-motherwell
14-garouste
solstice at full moon
I am back with the ocean, I sleep very close to her, I sleep with her cycles, she is my theater, outside is inside.
Sand.
Again
An animal
An animal who paints
Without voice
With no other intentions
Paint breathe paint
Channel the vision
Paint breathe paint
I do not think with words anymore, my inner dialogue is made of images.
The key is into the nature to reach a state of trance.
8:42 full moon, total eclipse
one girl says about my painting:
-it’s crazy, this is exactly what we should see when we dream.
And I smile, because I am painting the lost dreams of the modern society: new archetypes, our nights are too busy with the dust of our days to really dream freely.
ASHES FROM THE HUICHOL FIRE
A painting made on the beach, a few meters from the ocean, will carry forever the power of nature, the inner peaceful power, the radiant energy of the sunset. This is why I paint outside, in a studio without limits, influenced by the sand and the winds, the flight of the pelicans and the mysterious sunset: natural mandala.
The beautiful struggle to make a painting outside will give to this painting a magic force. I paint with salt water, the brushes are destroyed in one day . Wind carries sand over the images, wet strokes.
The softness and irregularity of the sand create different shapes: my brush is dancing in miniature sand dunes. The humidity, the Mexican fishermen, amused and fascinated transform the painting ritual
For the period of the making of the painting, the canvas will remain outside, offered to the variations of the universe, victim of rains playing with the rays of the moon, accumulating power.
This painting is becoming a labyrinth to reach nature, a key to the universal pattern.
I am a spiral into a seashell, I reach the origin.
The origin of time, the origin of myself.
I climb the giant seashell, barefoot, giant pearl.
I climb the giant seashell to hear giant ocean echoes. I need to amplify reality, a deep journey, a kick, a dangerous thrill. Furious visions, I need to explode.
!!!
My technique of painting could be called -archeology for the reverse side-
I mean by that, that I paint treasures: words, poems, symbols and I cover them with other images, in layers, I believe their power is still inside the painting, emanating from under.
I search the world, over and over, I send myself to unstable situations; new languages, I provoke changes, I push myself into new territories. I do not escape from fear, I dive to learn, I do not escape from solitude, I seek into the silence. Failure do not exist when intuition lead your creation. All the accidents drive your composition.
I seek for gates, I do not look back, the passage to wisdom is above ahead, doors are opening, most of the times you cross them before you can see them. Visions are merging labyrinths are becoming spirals and seem to lead to somewhere. There is. Crop circle.
Visions, deeper they go, are becoming harder and harder to share, and the deeper you step in, the harder it is to come back to the surface.
The key is lucid dreams.
The key is to remain invisible in the light
The key is to dive without fear
The key is to risk everything you are.
The key is you.
Anita said: -Hypnotic dance, erotic trance
Snake charmer, beauty seeker
Life provider
Existence reminder
Free runner
Naked lover
The surface becomes a futile place: a waste of time compare to the infinite possibilities of the visionary world.
It feels that, at one point, your physical body in reality is just the tool for the journey of the spirit.
The visionary world is limitless but fragile, delicate, in total suspension,
What are we looking for while we are down here, in this lifetime? Are we just looking to fill a number, little happiness? Comfort? Or are we looking for thrills, deep kicks? Some noise? Do we really have to fill our role in reality? Do we have a mission to make this destruction machine ride faster? Do we all have to be like this?
I always taught that the universe will carry us, whatever happens. The cycle of nature will protect us, feed us, allow us to experience freedom, and if we are strong and passionate enough, bring us on a different path.
Every breathe is rebirth.
We shall seek for the extraordinary
We shall seek for the irrational, the tactile, the invisible
The impossible, we shall seek for the last days of our lives, everyday. We shall no rest, we shall be our own nest.
MYSTIFICATION, EROTIC , ART, EXPERIENCE,
###I am a spy, in your house of love, I know your dream , that you are dreaming of, I know everyone you know, I know everywhere you go### jim Morrison
my heroes today: jim Morrison, allen ginsberg, terence mckenna
the music is so loud I cannot hear you around, your wings are faded echoes --movement is the only redemption, fast, roads and hills and deserts. I cannot hear your mind, ###my hands are crazy they draw without me###
Your portrait appears on a paper, climbing a palmtree, climbing on me.
Sonora, Desierto del gran altar
Yage,yage,yage
I touch golden sand. A tongue of sand. I cry, of beauty, timeless coma, I paint with my feet in the sand, crop circle, earth mandala, I paint without witness, the wind is leading my movements.
The road becomes the tongue of the cobra, dangerous but sublime, eccentric asymmetry
At the frontier: endless rusted metal wall , cutting the desert in two, like the separation of hermaphrodite, the mouth of the devil, the scarf of possession, the cry of the coyote, seeking for friendship.
I cried because earth is giving me back, at this moment, all the beauty that I ever gave to her. She welcomes me into her kaleidoscope, the birth and the end of humanity under my eyes . 2012: 3 years to see, to carve into the universal consciousness a new shape, a pyramid in circle, a new geometry.
For many hours I forgot that I was driving, I totally vanished into the landscape, fingers from earth, cactus caressing the wild sky.
And the voice of tacubaya came to me, like a butterfly in a hurricane.
Like a vision
I could see her voice.
The sounds we’re angels dancing under my eyes. Teachers of a new road, I stopped the engine. And I walked.
I became a windmill, vulnerable powerful
Depending on the winds,
I transformed the wind into energy.
And energy into you.
Modern don quichote. Rising alone, rising alone, I catched the sun in between my fingers, I made him rolling in my palm, burning my destiny.
I set myself on fire.
I provoke an eclipse
I follow my shadow on the sand
Revolving soul
Whirling dervish, ferris wheel.
I climb the sky to the clouds.
I leave no trace, I move so fast,
I am drowning into a waterfall of visions
I leave no trace, I travel in grace
A stainless steel snake cuts planet earth in two, perfect line, concrete fascination, traveling animals, nomads, limits are death, beyond, bird of prey revolves around me, flesh, anatomy, a garden of explorations,
Coyotes eat in my hands, I paint with my fingers, imaginary trees .
Migration butterflies, monarch, orange flight.
Tijuana:
This must be the most chaotic place on planet earth. It is almost beautiful in it’s own decadence. It is the last dance, the last day of humanity, romantic apocalypses, collapse and rebirth, dirty, tongue, loud, sexual, without emergency exit, a pyramid without windows, Tijuana is a roller coaster, rusted, screaming, haunting, 2000 years after the end. A place for survivors and haunted desires.
I go to draw in strip bars: women with legs open like bridges to nowhere.
I let my brush go, without me, tracing the vultures, the ambient war, the dangerous corners, the beautiful old woman buying fruits at the street corner.
U.S.A frontier: Mexicans seeking for a pale blue sky, death is near.
LOS ANGELES
Chaos is vital to freedom: when things are becoming too organized, freedom becomes impossible.
Intuition is a key to freedom.
Sinister euphoria, a beautiful decay, and the end of the world will be just like this. Everybody will fall asleep slowly in a grand illusion. Everybody is loosing their soul slowly, running for new cars, fast swimming pools, luxurious noises: the apocalypses will be a slow long fading death. We will erase ourselves: when our souls will be totally erased, never we will know we are just machines.
-and the end will just be like this.
The smog over Los Angeles is not just pollution, it is also the spirits, leaving bodies, floating in air, without channel: a big swimming pool of lost souls . There will be no panic, no screams, there will be no more spirits to stand and fight.
The world will end in a square. But the planet will remain a circle.
Overview: Again, I am seeking for an art store, I am cold turkey, a hole.
A gathering hole for the underground spirits.
I think that every painting is a hole for ancient spirits to come back to these times, a gate they can cross to come and see, a passage for them to come back.
And on the other side, the hole is open for the viewer to dive into the world of the spirits.
The painting is the bridge between the different levels, the different worlds.
VENICE BEACH
A few ghost in faded sun. emptiness. Desolation boulevard. A furious black crow, fast dream, cold winds, a new painting, secret euphoria,
Perfect citizen perfect agony, exit. Exile. Broken harmony.
Mexican lamentations. ABANDONED HORSETRACKS. Highways. Many women make one.
Trance no. 1. : a condition intermediate between sleep and wake fullness.
2. a dreamlike state.
3- a state of deep abstraction
Here I am, after 4 months on the road, chasing imaginary spirits, in a state of total abstraction, disconnected, lost but illuminated. Alone with 20 000 dancing spirits.
I shall dive in a painting to erase time.
Paint a portrait of the sea, of you, of us, feeding imaginary birds, chasing the dragon away.
So I walk on the beach, bright lights in. time out,
And seconds now are so long, an expansion, there is a whole life in between them.
I walk in circles, I stare at birds, burn imaginary flames. I paint my own flag.
I dance with a woman made of feathers.
I feel so distant, I escape from any eye contact, I remain in my trance, fragile but untouchable.
Humanity is vanishing around me. I exist in ancient times. Before man, I wait for eve, at the street corner, tempted by cheap drugs, easy sex slow sun, traveling on a bird,
It is so windy my canvas is flying on the beach. It is so windy it is impossible to trace a line in time.
Small ferris wheel: venice beach is a ghost, ashes of visions, movement in memory.
Enigmatic solitude: something is pulling me away: like an invisible swan from another time coming to take me from civilization: I heard a call, her call. I am leading to silence, I am leading to the last dance, I am navigating to the silk roads, secret destination.
Vertical infinity sign: a new painting, a different icon to kill time
To assassinate destiny, I just make her appear. I paint with metal powders, metallic dust, red wine.
Joshua tree desert:
We sleep at the gates of the desert: dust covers reality. She is transforming my dreams, new visions are coming when I sleep close to her, kaleidoscope of purity, the construction of a new world, a gold path. In her arms, I can abandon myself, become fragile, open all gates, I can abandon all protection, give birth to new images.
A new architecture of my dreams, I dive in a circle, million of rays of light are dancing around us. A silent symphony.
I open her legs, I open her soul, we dive.
Making love to her is visiting the wisdom tree., writing new prophecy,
Set us free: they are calling our name.
We reach another state: the mysterious state of joy, art ,happiness, levitation.
I tell her: Your perfume is my key, to complete the circle.
Another day in Venice:
killing helicopters, gentle noise, romantic conspiracy peaceful lover, you are the target, black and white, a chain reaction without movement.
Again .killing helicopters. Great American hero. Lost translators, useless power, I found an empty tower, a refuge,
And I carve into the concrete:
-America without you is an empty white room.
America without you is an amusement park without electricity.
An ocean without water
A sky scraper without sky
I lick my sword, in silence, I replay with passion all our choreographies.
I lay on my shadow
Shadow disappears.
You are in me.
How can you be excited by electric light when you just dived into a volcano?.
How can you be stimulated by music when you just made love with silence?
Feed me, hold me , reveal me.
Los angeles
There is no room to escape here, there is always a television around, loud, proud,, dramatic news from the inside, loud voices, cars, even the sound of the ocean is drowned into distortion. Insanity, here, is a corporation, revolution is an institution,
But my inspiration is high, and I go to paint on the beach everyday, even if it’s cold , even if the beach is loaded with blind beggars, sons of bob Marley and heroin salesmen, abortion preacher, sons of jim Morrison.
I paint a garden,
i wrote on a wall words for you
poetry from another century
i killed time
i assassinated seconds
one by one
building a bridge to you
i walked in spiral, into a giant seashell
to reach infinity
i dived to seek for pearls
i played with blind children
i repainted a flag
i created a new country
just for us
And I prepare my departure, my long journey to cross America
West to east.
Alone, crossing .
How many minutes do I really have to tell you everything?
Mechanical helicopters in constant chase, hunting for irregularity among the eccentrics, murders, lovers, ice cream, fast weddings,
Wheel traces on the sand: to clean to protect.
Direct tv: news before they happen.
It is time to escape los angeles: they call my name, somewhere, lost.
I must belong to another century, to another speed.
I cross all America without writing a word: I was just a filter, without one drawing, I became a ghost with holes, the landscape took me,
Read all the Kerouac books, thousand times, but you will really understand this feeling only when you will really take the road.
The vast infinite roads will remain unknown to you until you abandon yourself to them. The vacant solitude, delivery, universal spleen,
When all toughs are vanishing and you are loosing your voice,
Nomadic visions,
The poets are in wax museums now, the highway is invaded by state patrol and delivery trucks, the era of consummation is well established,
We make, we deliver, we buy, we use, we throw away,( repeat again again, daily)
A road trip is just another to chase yourself.
I paint in giant white letters on a rock in Colorado:
HANDLE WITH CARE
LIVE WITH PASSION
USE YOUR SILENCE
REDUCE NOISE
CREATE A SPACE
FOR EXPANSION
SET YOURSELF ON FIRE
PROVOKE YOUR OWN ILLUMINATION
Serial lover.
i sang our song
and the birds came
bu hundreds
by thousands
magicians from all around the world arrived, one by one, with mysterious
joy and smoke,
wizards,eagles, hermaphrodite , black elk, epicure, they all came to celebrate the new kingdom: a secret place inside us
we danced around the new flag
i walk unbalanced
i walk in silence
i walk in a strange symmetry
i seek for you
my perfect geometry
i lift my fists to the sky
to the moon
to the free spirits
i paint calligraphy on the skin of the sky
open your arms, i will visit you tonight
open your eyes, open your legs
you are not my exile, you are my promised land.
I said to her:
-protect yourself from normality
Run , run free. You are made of the moments that you loose control. All the other moments, you are just a human, nothing more, just a number, filling a little hole.
it blows all ashes.it leaves no trace behind. (Tinariwen.)