The Farmer
Swept away in the great flood of time he was unable to keep it together
after all. Days full of roses and wine came to an end for us when god
came to call. This was a nightmare I had as a child. In the dream an old
man, a farmer was standing in a pool of blood. The land was full of it. He
was frantically trying to tie pieces of snake to a fence as it if was going
to stop the bleeding. An old lady was at the end of the fence playing a
piano with a metrognome ticking away. She was playing church music
unaware of the pending blood flood. Obviously I chose water for the
painting instead. I wanted to reveal true pain and angst, not horror. I
keep that to myself.  My father was always working in the yard with an
old straw hat and pachetas, my mother always playing the piano.

My father passed away Nov. 23 1996 of Sarcoma. This was the last
painting he saw me produce as I painted it at his bedside. The angst on
the farmers face is mine as watching him die over the years began to
torment me and my addiction went into overdirve. We sat with each
other and made ammends with god as I vigilantly paint through the
night. He said it was my best work ever. He was my guiding light in life
and losing him was like no other pain I ever want to feel again. When he
crossed over my pain and torment crossed over with him. The memory
of this dream kept coming up at the time and I felt compelled to paint it
at the time. A ton of weight had lifted off my shoulders but I was lost. 3
years later in rehab I was able to put an end to an era and rebuild a
positive future as I discovered that no matter how hard I ran, in the end,
the one thing I could not escape was me.
17" x 40" OIl on Canvas
1996