God stands ten feet tall.. sold out of a show at the now-defunct Saxon~Lee Gallery in LA in the early 90’s.. living somewhere in Saudi Arabia now.. bought by a Princess.. I’d like to think in Mecca. .. it speaks to the deep, beautiful, mystery of life.” I look at it now.. today.. and ponder how times and events and circumstances effect how we view art. Can a painting which was painted in Philly.. exhibited and bashed in NewYork and sold in LA to a Saudi Princess.. be accessed anew under different circumstances? From time to time I am asked.. “Of your own work.. Which is your favorite painting?” I usually come back to this one.. this large mysterious portrait of my friend from Philly, Matthew Wytch.. who was working at a clothing designers, VoxPop on Church Street, in OldeCity.. he was shy and hesitant to be a model.. but eventually he posed for some drawings.. and some photos high on an overpass which was still under construction out near I-95 overlooking the Delaware River. I wrapped him in a quilt made by my GrandMother.. Mama Jesse.. my Mother’s Mother.. who was of mixed race. The painting took almost a year to complete and I took a break for a couple of months in the Summer to travel around the country. Upon my return I placed Matthew in a vast Western landscape.. with a wide open Western sky. I wanted to make something timeless.. something American.. something that addresses the mystery of what it feels like to be alive. What does matter.. is the art.. this piece and the pieces still being made.. are they relevant.. do they need to exist? In these times it is more important than ever to tap into our true calling.. to wade through the news cycle and discern what’s important.. to find a balance between putting our head in the sand and being well informed.. to not let ourselves get distracted but to stay current with events that effect us all. How to work through this.. How to address it.. How to make work that is representative of this whole thing.. that is the challenge. I painted “God” when I was thirty-five.. in the strength of my years.. I look back now and long for that naïveté.. that earnestness.. that purity of purpose.. it is hard to retain over a long career when we can so easily become callous and jaded. I forgive the critic for doing their job. I forgive the others for following along. But I look at this painting now.. and I still get it.. I still feel it.. there is a beautiful mystery in this young Black man’s eyes.. a tenderness.. a numinous, androgynous quality that silently speaks volumes. There is a resolve.. a hope.. a certain belief in the inevitable arc of justice.. which still holds true. We are all this young man. We are all. We are. Stand Sure. Stay Safe.
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