Paintings 5 Like surrealist art, alebrijes release, inner impulses and creative urges. They are not imitations of an external reality and they have an existence of their own. These creations are mine, and nobody else’s. Who else in the world would want to paint something like this? I have often wondered what title to give this painting. Sunday afternoon in the park with sunshade? The Early bird taking pity on two tardy worms. But, is it the early bird that spares the tardy worms or is it the early worm that gets spared by the bird? The next painting is entitled He contemplates his childhood in an attempt to heal his heart. There are many mysteries here. “Sólo el misterio nos hace vivir, sólo el misterio!” wrote Federico García Lorca. That last painting might also have been called The Tangled Web. Here, below, is another painting of a tangled web; this one is called Inside my head and you can easily see just how many thoughts and ideas are rushing around in there; it is like Piccadilly Circus at Rush Hour! Painting, especially surrealist painting, is very similar to fishing: you throw out the hook. the line, and the sinker, but you never know what will be drawn out of the depths by your paint-brush fishing rod. This next painting I think of as My Future in Runes (or is it Ruins), but I actually called it Sunshine and blood at the heart of love. At the time when I painted this, I was trying to organize form and colour, shape and feeling into a pattern that can be summarized in a single, verbal metaphor. These painting projects allow me to empty my head of words and to concentrate on things that seem to settle the mind: line, form, and colour. When words are no longer necessary, other senses and emotions fill empty spaces with light and colour. Painting, however primitive, lets me live in a world without words, although words sometimes play a part in these paintings. This next one is called The poet’s thoughts are shod with golden shoes ... And last in this sequence, here are my paint brushes turned into flowers. What a wonderful world it is when flowers can paint flowers. More: it is a world full of metamorphoses and transformations. We must all of us love it and then leave it, for that, too, is the way of the world. But be fruitful, not frightful, and remember, When hearts turn to seed, they rarely flower. ( ... to be continued ...)