Memento Mori

I like to remember fondly the dreamer I was. A young artist full of passion and unafraid of the future that I was to fulfill. In those years in the mid 90ies , I remember a group of friends who like I was filled with vision and hope. We painted through the night together at the SAIC. We lost ourselves in each other’s talents and gifts, we came from all over the world. Since then some had committed suicide, overdosed, disappeared. Some found themselves and still make art. I myself survived blistering madness, abject poverty, and soul crushing heartbreaks. It is a story of most creatives who follow the fragile path. I remember living in an apartment in Boston, where I spoke to a lady next door who found it strange that I was a painter.. she asked.. you knew what happened in your apartment before you moved in? I was silent as she told me of a story of a young painter who lived before me in the apartment, his easel stood in the same place. He died of a heroin overdose and wasn’t found dead for a few weeks.. I was in disquiet, but she fixed her gaze and she told me.. “but I have a feeling you are the one who does it right.” I still remember those particular days of struggle with fondness, and I continue to dearly miss the friends I lose along the way. Today I have an amazing network of support from family and friends who believe in my visions, A lovely wife and beautiful son who inspire me everyday to be the best I can be. I love life, I love people, and I love art. It is who I am and I’ve payed dearly to protect the child within me from dying. In this day, I understand that being a nurse or an engineer, or a rocket scientist, is a lot more useful in today’s world. But with my visions I hope to touch the few who will remember the artist and the child within them. A place of beauty, and wonder, of magic, and of the great love I have for my craft. I hope to do so until my last days here on earth. 🎨🙏

1997

1991