Ascension
Freudian analysis says that dreams about flying reveal a desire for sex. This would have it’s application to my paintings “Song of Solomon,” “Tristan and Isolde,” and “Rapture.” The exaltation of love or the rapture of sex seem to easily relate to a feeling of flying. But it seems to me that there have been times that I’ve dreamt of flying when the only point was just the desire to fly. I think that sometimes it is just that simple. I would think that many of us have thought of how fantastic it would be to be able to fly through the air. This is the situation of our young man here.The entire title that I’ve written on the back is “Gravity is the One Thing That Keeps Me From Heaven: Ascension.” The basic thought is that it would seem divine to be able to fly. Our man here needs the help of several birds, but he is satisfied to just be able to sore into the sky. The title might make some think of the Ascension of Christ, although that view isn’t necessary. I certainly don’t see it as an illustration of that event. It was intended as a simple depiction of a guy who takes the opportunity to sore up into the air just because he wants to.
At the time that I did this I hadn't painted in a year, and this is what I wrote in my journal soon after started this painting:
It’s the moment of communion, that’s what it is. It’s that moment of ascension. As I began to paint my first painting in a year, having felt that I had to douche my brain of that art bullshit, that stupidity of constantly trying to measure up, I was halfway down my background, all sky blue, when this felt like very life itself.
I was above it, I was in contact again with that spirit that I both love and hate, that angel that possesses me. At least I hope he’s an angel. That’s what it is, it’s that communion.
It will be put before the art critic who will sit and pontificate about what it all says about my view of some stupid thing that I don’t even care about. But it’s really not about all of that, is it? It’s that moment that I’m that instrument. More than anything else, that’s it. The product is the product. Too late they come to make some surmise, they’ve missed the moment. It’s not about your damned politics, it’s not about what I do or don’t think of women or some equally stupid context that you might give it. It’s about that communion.
It’s that point where I feel that I am some instrument to some spirit, to some something that I can’t comprehend. You don’t understand, you can’t understand, that intercommunication with your medium, with your tools, in which they don’t dominate me, but neither do I dominate them. And that presence, angelic, otherworldly, not some pagan elaboration of this world, but some visitation. Some presence to which you let your mind go. That’s the moment of creation, that’s the reason to paint.
It’s not about craftsmanship, but about communion. That meditational state. The composition that results seemingly magically. They don’t know it, but I seldom draw a sketch. I just interact with what unfolds. Some things are better than others, some things entirely fail, but it’s always best when I’m in touch. Not in touch with your all-important politics, not in touch with your damned mainstream media and your ignorant television brain rot, but with that spirit, that angel. When you give loose to that possession at the cost of idiots who will politicize the product, who will suck on you like a vampire to make themselves look oh so politically correct. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.
That moment - you understand possession, you understand intrusion, you understand soul murder, and soul birth. You understand spiritual strangulation, but moreso spiritual ascension. It’s the thing that separates you from the mundane. It’s the thing that associates you with the divine. But it’s surrender. It’s not about me, and it’s not about the painting. It’s the meditation, the moment, the communion. That’s it. The creative process. That’s it.
(Paintings that feature people in flight or falling are "Song of Solomon," "Tristan and Isolde," "Icarus Descending," "Rapture," and "Ascension.")