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(2024)  A large black horse with a white inverted heart marking between her eyes, she came to this place from the Bureau of Land Management where she was systematically abused.  Who does that, and how can Society allow it? Perhaps that is when this all began… when very bad people were allowed to do evil things and get away with it…. Perhaps that was when Society began to change….. 

 

                             * * * * *

 

 

An old lady stands next to a now skittish horse at the front of the corral in a field where a home once stood but now every remnant of that home is gone. Its familiarity is haunting.  What secrets do we hold inside?  Secrets that shape our lives, secrets that change us in some fundamental way and that forever alter our view of other people and of our World. Sometimes it’s not safe to tell these secrets to anyone. Those who shared one secret are all gone now. (Many died mysteriously shortly after it happened.  But the FBI never noticed that… or so the story goes . . … ) And so a half a century passed and that old lady never breathed a word about it. And then Betty passed away.  Alas, some secrets are destined to remain hidden - and they do.  Sometimes for an entire lifetime. . …

                                 *   *   *

 

. . … and the painting is bathed in red like the fire all consuming; 
. . …. and one eye peers out through the night through the darkness because it is late and nearly everyone is sound asleep.  And the only thing visible in the darkness is that huge dark eye of his.  And the only thing one hears all around are the crickets. And the sound of a forklift unexpectedly pierces the silence.  And the floodlights suddenly light up the darkness.  And Betty whispers,  “shhhhh!” 

          *.         *.         *.         *.         * 

(the field).  A woman told me a story about that field… a house once stood there… and a man and his wife and their son and daughter lived there… and the man went into the “Big city” with his son … and there was a car jacking and the man’s son was still in the car so the man - he fought like hell with the carjacker to protect his son -  but the carjacker pulled a gun and shot the man in the chest - and the man died.  And The Temple loomed large in the background.  And the wife mikes away heard His voice to come for the son to take him home.  For, somehow or other,  the young boy was saved and reunited with his family… but he never got over the trauma he had suffered . . . and one day the mother returned home to find her son had killed himself in that home … and months later as the mother and daughter tried desperately to rebuild their shattered lives, the home - it caught fire-and it burned to the ground… so that land was never sold to build another home because nobody wanted to live in that place . . . that place was no longer a place of hope or joy or healing the woman telling the story explained. And so the grass grew taller and the lot remained vacant…. Until one day a rescue came along and was able to make good use of that land that nobody else had wanted following the tragedy  . . and it became a refuge for those who creatures who also needed a home . . . It thus finally became a place of  tremendous power,  . . ..  a place of healing

 

* * * 

Yes,  I have been thinking a lot about Athena lately. She is a large black horse - but not as big as him.  She has a white marking between her eyes.  It is shaped like a heart - a heart that has been turned inside out and upside down.  So, no. Not exactly like his and no,  she is “not a ringer.”

 

That same old lady - the one with the cane - she brings her a treat every day… sometimes a Granny or Red Delicious apple - or maybe two, sometimes a handful of sweet carrots, and most often those little Neigh Nibbler Oats and molasses treats which are Athena’s favorite.  The old tractor store downtown on Main Street sells the Nibblers in huge bags too big for her to handle without assistance from the store clerk. So she stocks up four times a year.  

 

When Athena hears her drive up in that old truck, the one with the running board made of wood, she recognizes the sound of an engine now sputtering, and Athena -she comes racing across the field of grass, her head held high in anticipation.  Sometimes she’ll call  out to the old woman.  And the old woman tries to rub her muzzle when she gets to the fence - and sometimes Athena allows it and sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes she starts when the woman stretches out her hand and reaches out to her.  Sometimes she’ll take a little nip of the old woman’s hand and even though she doesn’t draw blood, that nip with those big old munchers is not nothing.  It’s something.  But Athena is all forgiven that, for the old woman knows that that’s what happens when you’ve been abused. (I wonder how she knows?)  Nonetheless,  a day does not go by without a drive out to the ranch, because in some small way these visits  (with Athena the big dark horse with the white upside down heart on her nose), they may not erase a painful memory but they do bring her full circle and allow a degree of closure . . … 

                    *.              *               *


When she looked into Athena’s eyes, she drifted back ~ back over half a century to that multimillion dollar old Spanish home with the long driveway framed by tall trees on either side and the arch through which the driveway passed into the inner courtyard - and the stables opening into that courtyard - and the stalls on the right side where a short time  (an eternity) ago another horse lived. He was bought for next to nothing -  not because she saw his heart but because she saw his resemblance and so she brought him there - yes, brought there by the Ice Queen ~ that’s what all the neighborhood kids called her!  (Young children often see what others can’t!)

Well as it turns out, the Ice Queen was part of a scheme which involved fraud, greed and lastly - murder - though the NY field office of the FBI never did quite make the connection and so The Ice Queen got away without serving a single moment behind bars for her role in what was done to him. . . how the whole thing began with HER trip to South America. (Why couldn’t the FBI figure that much out? Or did they!) . . … And then there was The Ice Queen’s role in the murder itself. It was a half a century ago, but some things are not easily forgotten. . …the Ice Queen’s petite frame sporting her khaki-colored jodhpurs and a whip, her short cropped blonde locks, the forklift,  the good  doctor,  the broken up cement in the inner courtyard, the floodlights in the middle of the night piercing the darkness ~ 

* * *


There’s something about Athena, perhaps it’s the look in her eyes, or the inverted white heart marking on her nose which in some small way reminds me of him.  Of Lebon.  But what could a little girl have done to stop it?  It was a lifetime ago, and too, all the players have gone. And even if any are still alive, nobody cares anymore. Nobody even remembers him. The one who was murdered. He had a heart too.  And then, that look in his eye.  Calling out to her through the darkness.  No one remembers, except of course, for that one little girl.

 

Copyright JanaiAmi.  All Rights Reserved. 

SENECA  (THE FINAL ASCENT) 

Original_ 2023_ Oil on Canvas_ 30 x 40 in

Custom 24k Gold Frame

(Not For Sale at This Time) 

* * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *

(August 2023)

 

“You need to stay away from those people. . … You know I’m right. . …” 

Then she let me cry. 

 

”What was the one thing -the only thing- you asked him for repeatedly?”

”Truth.  To always be honest with me.”

”And was he?”

”No.” 

 

We sat quietly for a moment.

 

“ Stay away from those people.”

* * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *

 

2023   Together. Alone. What had the chickens been up to. . … they weren’t up to much!  But the rooster was crowing, ‘it’s time for breakfast’

The Ojai mountain air was cooler than expected.  We gathered the eggs, and I put a small steel-rimmed pot of coffee on the stove.  No microwave. Duly noted.  To be respectful,  I tiptoed quietly around. Or maybe I was quiet for another reason. . …

 

I just could not get out of my head.   I was only starting to realize how deeply I had been affected. I was an entirely different person. I looked the same - on the outside, but i was lost within a storm churning inside of me for months.  My words and head and heart . . . all disconnected and I wondered  if this would be the same . . … a wall had gone up  . . … Who was this stranger inside of my head? I didn’t know her at all ~ 

 

* * * * *    * * * * *   * * * * *    * * * *  * * * * * *  

 

I suppose it didn’t matter.  He was lost deep in his own grief, so I let him be.  Writing would be cathartic as painting was for me.  Give Space. . . …  Heeding the words of Seneca, he was already hard at work.  I wondered if I wasn’t there at all would it even make a difference.  Or would he lie and make believe it did - like W had lied,  repeatedly.  

Or maybe not…. . . But at that moment, I just wanted to disappear,  and just like that i was cellophane, invisible - and wanting to remain so.  And then there was the doctor’s report.  A forever reminder, lest I try to forget.  Just like Willa ~ 

 

But the man sitting with his back to me working away knew none of this.   He only knew that I had stood for hours on a cold wet December morning by the Brooklyn Library waiting, . . … waiting, . . … with no word at all.   i had already spent hours guiding revisions uncredited and directing his work towards completion . . ..  I was there to support his dreams,  but he left me standing in the cold rain 

 

I was there when he moved Francine into a home,  en route to doctor visits and reviving a project without wings. I was there on the slopes at Christmastime and at the restaurant on New Year’s  Eve.  .  . But on that day in December I waited. Not a word.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Months later in Ojai I felt “safe.”   M.B. didn’t know what I was like before all that, and now thanks to W’s carefully calculated admonition about MB, he never would.  

~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Above all,  M.B. was disciplined.  He sat head bowed at a small wooden writing desk facing the wall next to the double doors which led into the entryway. I wondered which chapter he was working on.  He was a good man,  an extraordinary man.  But I was not fully present.  It wasn’t his fault. I was “Floating.  On the breath of the Wind.”  And then I sat down at my easel with a small brush, debated heavy-handed browns at the bottom, something I had toyed with for this piece, but lacking courage and the confidence I had had up until six months prior,  I eventually defaulted to a gentler more timid shade of blue.  Me without any self confidence at all.  A hollowed out shell of the woman I had worked and at times struggled to become.  Gone.  I couldn’t have started a new painting if I had tried. But there was still some detail work needed on SENECA and SAGAWA too.  It was about all I could handle.  I didn’t  decide against anything more bold - I just no longer had it in me.  (It would have been a far better painting).  

 

Slowly, meticulously, my hand shaking,  I added those minute finishing details at the very bottom.  Tears softly quietly down my cheek - not because of MB, back towards me, working out his own deep pain of losing her.   I didn’t know it at that time, but some part of me had died,  and I would not paint again . . ….

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

I told M.B. that he was brilliant but nobody knew that except for me. He objected.  Everyone in his field knew his writing,  he insisted.  Hmm, a small eclectic group of just how many would that be? Harsh perhaps. “Okay. Maybe some. But not the masses.  The masses need to know you. Otherwise all of this brilliant work may be lost to generations that follow.”  I said it with emphasis - especially the part about all of his work - his great love- his very essence - being LOST to the winds of time - 

“And how do you suggest . . . ?”

”Submit!”

”it’s a lot of work. . … ”

”yes. Initially.  I’ve done it many times. It’s distasteful.  But you do it - and then you do it again. It becomes easier. And you keep doing it until you hit that sweet spot. And then they call you. And then . . … then you get to do what you love.”

 

He is the greatest ever at what he does,  M.B.

. . … and so he took my suggestion - begrudgingly- 

and I waited to hear… but I didn’t have to wait very long.  And that felt good. //

 

(August 2023) 

 

A MINUTE BEFORE MIDNIGHT IN AMERICA __ 2022 _ Oil _ on Canvas _ 40in x 30in   

 

There is a video available online

In a clearing,  two animals fight each other for a position of dominance within their herd & all the while,  whilst the stronger one weakens the lesser, 

leaving him incapable of future battle,  he also weakens himself in the process. And all that while,  a lion waits just beyond the clearing for his opportunity  ~  The lion does not sleep . . . . . . . . . . . 

 * *  * *  * *  * *  * *   * *   *  * *  * *  * *  * *  *

 

The painting is nearly entirely black with navy infused into it.  My palette generally focuses on shades of pinks and blues.  The colors for babies.  But yet in the navy darkness,  I’ve introduced light. It’s a strange glow that you can see and the leaves & off shoots of a growing plant stretch upwards reaching for the source of this divine light. Yes,  there’s darkness.  It may envelop us . . ..   

(from Art in America), 

“But light shines on the world, and when we see beauty we see existence bathing in this glorious light and reflecting it.  Every plant reaches for this light. And as blossoming flowers appear in the darkness they suggest that, as long as there is life, hope also still exists."   

 

PROVENANCE:

MAY/JUNE 2023:    ART IN AMERICA

 

JUNE 2023:     THE TOKYO METROPOLITAN ART MUSEUM, XXII Japan International Art Exchange Exhibition, A juried invitational show of Contemporary Fine Art

Additional Information :  

"A Minute Before Midnight in America" was one of seven large oil paintings to have been selected by the JapaneseChinese&U.S. Curators to be included in 'The USA Exhibition.” The show opened on June 15th, 2023 at the Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Art and ran through the 20th of June.  The other works which were juried into the show to be seen in Tokyo were:  Saoirse's Garradh (about the beauty & glory of nature); Dreaming in The Magical Forest of Zduhàc No. 1 and No. 2 (about superhuman males);   Gone,  Amber Waves (about worldwide famine);  

Floating on The Breath of The Wind (about loss); and Romantic Interlude À Leanna (about what is truly important ~ love).  

 

A Minute Before Midnight in America:  

 

Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away                                                

 Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away

 (Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh)

 (Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh)

 (Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh)

 (Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh)

 

In the jungle, the mighty jungle

  The lion sleeps tonight

 In the jungle the quiet jungle

  The lion sleeps tonight

 

Wee heeheehee weeoh aweem away

 Wee heeheehee weeoh aweem away

 

  Near the village, the peaceful village

     . . … on the verge of collapse

  The lion sleeps tonight

      . . … preparing for the attack

  Near the village, the quiet village

  The lion sleeps tonight

 

Wee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away

 Rrr, la la la weeoh aweem away

 

Hush, my darling, don't fear, my darling,

 The lion sleeps tonight

  Hush, my darling, don't fear, my darling,

 The lion sleeps tonight

 

Wah oh oh, wah oh oh, wah oh wimoweh

 Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem awa

 Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away

  
The lion never sleep, he is watching . . .   
(I wonder,  what time is it now?)                                                                                                                  

* Original available June 2024.
   Serious inquiries only.

 

  

                                                                                                     

 

(& a special thx to M.B. for the AiA eloquence)

 

THE REMAINS OF THE DAY

Original 2022_  Oil__ Canvas__ 20 in  x 60 in 

 

  *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

 

Try to remember when life was so tender
That dreams were kept beside your pillow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That love was an ember about to billow.

 

Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.
Follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,
Follow,  follow,  follow,  follow.
Follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,
Follow,  follow,  follow,  follow.
Follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,
Follow,  follow,  follow,  follow.

 

 

Premonitions.  
Do you remember a silly conversation we had about the strange dreams that wake me up in the middle of the night?  (You told me to turn off the news!)   This painting is because of my premonitions, so titled “The Remains of The Day.”  The quiet after The Final War.  And it speaks to something else, something enduring . . .. 

 

  *     *     *     *     *     *     *     * 

 

About the Painting:

This painting began during what I felt to be a tumultuous time.  [He said, ‘The kinetic part of the Final War had not yet begun’] . . .. whatever did he mean by that?  . . .. 

I thought of adding to this piece,  but there is something serene here.  Quiet.  Thoughtful.  Accepting.  Peaceful ~  and that’s exactly what is needed in turbulent and frightening times such as these.  When all we know is gone,  when the United States of America - when ALL of Western Civilization has fallen, what if anything will remain?  Only one thing. . ..

 

 

     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     * 

 

My neighbor watched as I brought the canvas outside to dry a bit - and to avoid the smell given off by the still fresh paint.  

 

 

"Oh!  That's interesting.  Not finished, right"

"hmmmm. . ..  I think it might be finished."

"But it's not what you usually do."

"True. . . " 

"It's sort of quiet."

"Yes.  It is, isn't it?  I like it that way.  It is peace."

"I see that."

"Yes,"  (pause. . . ) "There is something to be said for peace." I turned & winked. . .. 

 

And then under my breath, again a second time,  “Yes.  There is much to be said for peace.”

 

(Quiet.  Calm, always now.  Easy (not for everyone,  but for me - YES, easy! I knew what was coming, so there was time to mentally prepare.  I tried to warn you and yet, so many caught off guard. . ..)  . . .   But even a piece as simple as this requires thought.  It is peaceful.  Perhaps not explosive & overflowing with 'happiness colours'- cherry reds, royal blues, majestic purples. . ..  But nonetheless,  bringing a special joy!   It is not as complex as OUAT.  

 

I stood back and stared for a long while at my canvas.   Something unexpected about it.  And I went back when I created it,  tearing up over the painting,  tearing up over all that will be lost not too far in the future- it is coming - and then I added the 'karlami' to it,  so it would come alive again if even for only a fleeting moment!  Ever so slight an injection of color was all it really needed - to give it Life!  LIFE!!
And now those touches of color  - - the sparks of vibrancy that make it what it is!   How could these colors not remind me?  So, it’s the best within its calmness.  A different sort of painting.  A different feeling.  A good feeling.  A happy feeling.  A feeling of peace.  A feeling of PEACE.   I decided not to ruin the piece by trying to turn this painting into something it was not and the softness of the blue -- remarkable really!  I don't think that anything else would have worked quite as well for me!  So I chose to leave it as it was and accept this work of art for its very own special beauty and remembering now for a fleeting moment -- for its own very special show of 'Grace.'  

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *     * 

 

Ahhhhhhh . . . . . . ..   I am walking barefoot through an open meadow and sports bikes with bells and reflectors and baskets and their riders in multicolored bandanas eyes fixated shoulders slumped legs pumping rhythmically and runners sweat dripping off foreheads down shirts cooling with evaporation and their feet pounding the asphalt of Center Drive and setting a pace their paths all criss-crossing my own,  with me continuing on and my toes making mush of the wet earth beneath them. I know they are all around me faces without names I can't really see who these riders are for they are all masked even those who seem not to be and their masks do a great job of concealing their identities except of course for Lafayette.  I look around at all of them.  Running.  Running.  Where are they all running?  For the Nitehawk is now closed.  What are they running away from?  They appear frightened. And I've never seen anything like this here ever before.  And then I notice this:  No-one else is with bare feet but there are plenty of worn-out and used up sneakers,  overpriced Nikes screaming this is who I am,  filthy dirty cleats and clogs announcing one's commitments in case nobody noticed and really why does anyone care  . . .  I am different in this regard -- and I am aware of this.  Others look and wonder because their own worlds are filled with people who care about these things - not living life not loving and living but chasing one more dollar one more one more one more it is never enough while the things that matter turn grey and start to rot and then they have to pretend to regain some semblance of what was there before they actually in fact in mind and in deed stopped caring entirely for everything except their own emotional and material need . . . .  and the things that truly mattered were neglected entirely by them,  risking it all,  putting all of it in danger,   such fools!   . . . .. so,  these are the ones that glance down disapprovingly at my feet which touch the Earth and feeling it it is real and I see them all looking,  but I pay no mind.  material.  transient.  unsustainable.  not real.  [Yours: Marching. Shrieking.  Virtue signaling:  Without real virtue.  She Her kind will bring this Country to its knees. How can the blind see?  How can You not see what is actually happening?]  Suddenly,  I just don't care anymore.  I realize that something happened back then and then all of a sudden,  none of it meant anything.  And now?  Hypersonics on combat readiness but they (like yours) sip their wine coolers and check their d-stocks, thinking themselves thinking yourselves immune. Fools! Growing unrest flooding NYC streets.  But you cannot escape. Because of Her and others just like Her,  nowhere is safe. There is nowhere for you to run, so you might as well stay put . . ..  Three large PLA battleships move into place,  while Mr. E  announces his alliance in spite of,  well, . . .. his other alliance.  A woman meanwhile works extra hours so she can afford a second home if she can just convince her husband that having more is the real necessity. WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE WORLD RIGHT NOW?   What is causing all of this?  [She caused this. You caused this. The 81 D’s  caused this. Look around you. You have nobody but yourselves to blame. That’s the real reason I went, not you. I wanted to see for myself - Who The Hell are these people who did this to all of Us - including themselves?  So I went. And I saw. And they were,  they are - EXACTLY as I imagined them to be. . ..]
And then,  in my dream,  there is tremendous violence - frightening - tremendous violence in every direction and followed by an eerie 'nothingness.'  It's everything and it's nothing at all.  Hard to explain but the dream,  this particular dream comes over and over and my sleeping is fitful and interrupted nightly. Until I arrived at The Pine Forest! It is just as I remembered it!!  I wake up drenched in sweat back then, before I found my way back home.  And my heart was pounding.  I doubt anyone would understand.  So in this other dream,  hands at my side and my fingertips barely touch the tips of several blades of the tall grass, and all i care about suddenly is legacy as the chaos is rising on either side of me.  What is this feeling overcoming me these past few years and I could not seem to shake it - it is or at least it WAS becoming more intense.  (TURN OFF THE NEWS is what you would tell me,  no longer joking but Dead serious. “You know all of this news 24/7 is upsetting you and the rest of Society so why watch it ~ what's the point?” True.  I don't care what either side is saying across the partisan divide,  not the right and not the left.   Soon it will ALL mean nothing,  as even those who brought this on,  even those in power,  even those with money they feel insulates them from what is about to transpire - - - Every Single One of These People every single one of us . . .. ahh -well  - - - including those who called for it all to end,  perhaps not thinking that they were calling for their own demise -- every single individual throughout the world with American citizenship will feel it,  as the once great bastion of freedom falls in ruins . . .. )  What is it that frightens us?   Is it How it all unfolds.  For now I know,  this was not just a dream.  It is going to happen.  But back in early January of 2020,  it was just a premonition.  Alarming.  And then the dreams.  They were frightening. So much so,  I placed a call to H in early January 2020 before the Pandemic and half fearful to tell him exactly what it was I skirted around relaying half of the nightmares,  half of what I was feeling as a result of it.  And he was quiet and listened and said calmly that if what I was trying to say was what he thought I was trying to say, a complete and utter breakdown of Society,  then the market would be the very last thing I would need to worry about.  And I didn't want to alarm him over a silly really bad dream.  And I didn't want him to think I was falling apart over a silly dream.  So I said, 'Yes.  What a ridiculous bad dream!   The United States collapsing.  The end of the United States of America.  Totally preposterous!  I guess we should just leave all the investments as they are and get out more and try to put really bad dreams into the appropriate perspective,  after all,  it was only a bad dream.'  Well.  He was right about it being the least of our worries.  For now.  So much more.  For Heaven's sake,  WHAT on Earth is going on?  

 

  *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *     *     *     *   

What if?… What if you were forced to give up your home?  and all of your neighbors,  nearly all of  your friends who live nearby, your extended family, the places you go the people you know, . . .your neighborhood, your access to the City. everything that is your current world,. . .. and live out your life with just one person in a remote location  - - - how would they respond to that reality? & most importantly ~ Would you now be okay with giving it all away?  
 

*  * *  * *  * *  * *. * 

 

I am a giant here in this meadow. Will my work transcend?  This is all-at-once  (almost) the only thing I ever wonder about.  This is all I care about, . . .  my work transcending.  It means everything now.  I must paint.  I must.  There is nothing else.  I must fight the rising darkness with more beauty.   Something beautiful to maybe,  if I am at all lucky,  to last.  Something to remember our civilization by, if we do not . . .. if it does not survive.  If nobody survives.  

 

  *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *     *     *     *   

 

I took nearly every dollar and put it into art.  I know art.  And I know the artists.  And I went to the best of the best contemporary artists.  And I purchased their best work.  I am certainly not wealthy.  It should not have been me taking on this project.  But I didn't think anybody else would think that far in advance,  and I needed to do something -- something that I thought was important for someone to be doing.  So I did it.  And then I started to remove the works from their stretch bars.  And to roll them all up and seal them in waterproof airtight fireproof containers.  To preserve our history.  To preserve at least some of what is most beautiful of America - before it all falls,  before it is all destroyed  . . ...  And I gave it all to him. And he placed it into an underground vault in Southern California.  One day, someone will find it all. After the dust settles. And it will be a reminder of the beauty of Freedom and what a Free People are capable of. . .. Great Beauty! 

 

  *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *     *     *     

 

My Pine Forest is off in the distance just beyond the bend in the dirt and on the other side of a towering row of pines with their needles forming a blanket on top of that dirt road.  It is quiet here in The Forest.  Yes very still.  Did I say it was peaceful here,  on the other side? Yes.  It is.  Here there is peace. A deer stops and stares, then disappears . . .. 

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *            

 

Merchant Ivory was different!  REMEMBERED!   

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *     * 

You ARE good! I continue to be amazed at just how good you are.  You are SO good at keeping secrets!  But you never kept any secrets from me. Even at the beginning. You told me Everything.  Keeping secrets from everyone else?:  You are really the Best of the Best!   No matter what I said in my pain, I will never forget  . . .. 

 

 

    *     *     *     *          *     *     *     *     *    

 

Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
Although you know the snow will follow.
Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
Without a hurt the heart is hollow.
Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
The fire of September that made us mellow.
Deep in December, our hearts should remember
And follow.

 

    *     *     *     *          *     *     *     *     *  

 

I know someone somewhere will be searching for the Karlami.  Of course it's there!  It's in the painting. I added it & now it is there,  . . a reminder,  of course!!  And now that I know someone may be looking for it I couldn't possibly leave it out - or could I?  I remember the first time I breathed a word about it.   (Karl of course knows!  He and I - we made it all up!)

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *     * 

 

It is five in the morning, and I am awake.  It is warm in here because I am wrapped in my favorite heather blue sweater ~ I take it off and put my father’s oatmeal colored sweater on because it’s warmer and there’s no heat and i crank the hand radio and listen for any news but there’s nothing but silence as tens of millions were slaughtered & the United States has fallen and even those who did this are now gone . . ..  I am floating away I am in Heaven ~   it was just moments ago and I've lost all track of time while working on this painting. . . ..  it is all that matters really . . . ..  and I am at peace . . .  you were correct!  It is the most beautiful thing in the World!!  

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *   

 

Sometimes I can hear your laughter.  It is the sweetest sound of all . . .. & you raise an eyebrow and you make me laugh!  You are so silly and I love that about you!

* * * 
I turn to you and ask, “Did I make you laugh?” And a smile spreads across your face, and I say, “then my work here is done!” 

 

* * * 

 

There's wind that blows in from the north

And it says that loving takes this course

 

*     *     *     *     *  

 

I know you thought I was being silly with some of the things I said.  I know you wondered where some of these thoughts were coming from!  Yet I never said much about the actual premonitions,  because I knew that would sound strange.  And I myself am at a loss to explain where these thoughts come from.  Because two years ago there was no chance you could see what I was seeing.  Why, even very grounded H was taken aback by my query!   But now it is different.  And I trust that you will see . . ..  See what you see.  Use that incredible brain and release yourself from decades of indoctrination my good friend and try just for a moment try -to See what you see. . .. See what you see. . ..

 

 

  *     *     *      *     *

 

I know you don’t believe in God, but I asked him anyway to watch over you. . .. 

 

    *     *     *     *     *     * 

 

There it is again,  on my canvas, and it is undeniable magic!  Thank you God!  I know I asked you for something entirely different, something I wanted instead.  But you have given me what you feel is most important right here and now,  and I will cherish it,  and I will be ... I am grateful.  Even when I forget to say 'thank you.'   Even when I cry . . . 

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *       

 

In the stars.  The Second Time.  I don’t show up.   I am headed back into my shell where it is safe.   I am overwhelmed  . . ..

 

No I'm not impossible to touch

I have never wanted you so much

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *            

 

 

POW!  Pow!  POW!  Magic! LOVE!   It's all there, on my canvas.  When I paint LOVE it makes everything else disappear!  SNAP!   No need for  any words.  Check the canvas!  Love, disappointment,  joy,  grief, caring, humanity, kindness, understanding, warmth,  calm,  compassion, confusion, fear, resolution,  humanity, acceptance  - - it's all there.  It's on my canvas.  Electricity.  I want to look away again.  
Perhaps I can slip out a side door.  I ought to be angry,  but i do understand.  And I remember how you asked ME what I wanted you to do. And I sent you away, I sent you back without thinking twice. I did that.  I don’t know why I did that, or how I found the strength to do that- tell you what I thought was the right thing to do, but I did.  And I regretted My Choice. .  You asked me what I feel.  I feel hurt. Yes, it was so very painful ~ And I told you I’d forget, because I knew in my heart if I didn’t do that you wouldn’t stick it out. And that hurt even more. 

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *     *  

 

WHY? Why did you tell me about Jamie?  Were you intentionally trying to hurt me by ensuring it could never work or hedging your bets just in case?  Working with Katie on a backup plan… ?  Or did you actually see something I would not see because of my own naïveté and you were trying to warn me because you love me still?  

 *     *     *     *    

 

[You didn’t show up for Willa?  I do not know this Man that didn’t show up for a woman he loved for over ten years. ]. Ask yourself,  Why? . . .. 

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *            

 

 

Everyone around me is suddenly gone.  The canvas remains.    

 

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *    *     *   

 

 

My alarm goes off!  I roll over,  jolted out of a deep wonderfull place of existence.  .   .  .  .. 

And I wonder ~ 

Was I dreaming? .  .  .

 

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *        

 

 

Provenance:  

The Remains of The Day was included in a show at Gallery 825 in 2022 

 

 

 

A MINUTE BEFORE MIDNIGHT IN AMERICA

__ 2022 _ Oil _ on Canvas _ 40in x 30in   

 

 

[Epilogue:  It’s been written that my paintings exhibited at the 2023 Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum were all prescient . And I’ve been asked how I knew a few years ahead what was going to happen, when I painted “Midnight” & the other paintings.  Short answer,  I didn’t.  But I am a keen observer of the animal kingdom.]

 

There is a video available online

It depicts a lion crouching hidden in the bushes beside a clearing

In the clearing,  two animals fight each other for a position of dominance within their herd

& all the while,  whilst the stronger one weakens the lesser, 

leaving him incapable of future battle,  but also weakening himself in the process ~ 

all that while,  the lion waits just beyond the clearing for his opportunity  ~ 

The lion does not sleep . . . . . . . . . . . .  

 

 

ABOUT THIS PAINTING

For three hundred and forty million plus everyday Americans - - -  soaring prices,  plummeting savings, skyrocketing crime - - - it feels like a complete unraveling of America . . .  Millions of Americans, Democrats & Republicans alike,  have this feeling today of impending doom.  It will be hard to explain to future Generations (if the United States of America - or any of its citizens  - survive) what it felt like to be alive in 2023 and how a sense of deep concern for the future of the Country filled the hearts of so many on both sides of the political spectrum.   (Ahhh… .. well,  maybe it's time to turn off the T.V. and stop listening to the News!)

 

"But light shines on the world, and when we see beauty we see existence bathing in this glorious light and reflecting it.  Every plant reaches for this light. And as blossoming flowers appear in the darkness they suggest that, as long as there is life, hope also still exists."   

 

 

 

PROVENANCE:

May/June 2023:    ART IN AMERICA

 

JUNE 2023:  THE TOKYO METROPOLITAN ART MUSEUM ??????

XXII Japan International Art Exchange Exhibition

A juried invitational show of Contemporary Fine Art

 

Additional Background:  

"A Minute Before Midnight in America" was one of seven large oil paintings to have been selected to be included in 'The USA Exhibition,' curated by Julienne Johnson.  The show opened on June 15th, 2023 at the Museum, and ran through the 20th of June.  The other works which were juried into the show to be seen in Tokyo were:  

Saoirse's Garradh (about the beauty & glory of nature and of freedom); Dreaming in The Magical Forest of Zduhàc No. 1 and No. 2 (about a family’s protectors & defenders against harm);  Gone,  Amber Waves (about the coming worldwide famine);  

Floating on The Breath of The Wind (about loss); and Romantic Interlude À Leanna (about what is truly important ~ love).  

 

 

A Minute Before Midnight in America

Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away                                                

 Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away

 (Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh)

 (Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh)

 (Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh)

 (Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh)

 

In the jungle, the mighty jungle

  The lion sleeps tonight

 In the jungle the quiet jungle

  The lion sleeps tonight

 

Wee heeheehee weeoh aweem away

 Wee heeheehee weeoh aweem away

 

  Near the village, the peaceful village

  The lion sleeps tonight

  Near the village, the quiet village

  The lion sleeps tonight

 

Wee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away

 Rrr, la la la weeoh aweem away

 

Hush, my darling, don't fear, my darling,

 The lion sleeps tonight

  Hush, my darling, don't fear, my darling,

 The lion sleeps tonight

 

Wah oh oh, wah oh oh, wah oh wimoweh

 Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem awa

 Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away

  

       

The lion does not sleep . . . . . . . . . . . .  

(I wonder,  what time is it now?)                                                                                                                  

* Original available on its return from Japan (March/April 2024) Serious inquiries only.