Portrait Of My Dad When The Demons Were Awaking

“When I next came into my studio, it felt like his eyes were following me.

When I picked up my guitar to play a song, I realized I couldn’t sing without bursting into tears. ”

Marker, Colored Pencil, Wax Crayons, Gouache and Acryl on Vintage Map of Paris

About a year after my father died,

I found myself going through travel material that he had amassed over is lifetime.
He kept everything, it seemed; maps, travel guides, anything tethering him back to those moments of freedom and adventure.

Going through this material made me feel a whole host of conflicting feelings. Something needed a way out.
I blindly picked a map out of the big stack in front of me. I hung it up. I started drawing with my eyes closed, as to better feels the shapes and forms connected to the feelings. Then I painted frantically.

The piece was finished within two days.

When I next came into my studio, it felt like his eyes were following me. When I picked up my guitar to play a song, I realized I couldn’t sing without bursting into tears.
I sang anyways.

Something found a way out.