FOLLOW THE EXIT SIGN
watercolor on paper
On this night like on so many nights in my life, nights that go as far back as I can count, nights that blur into the countless, nights where days don’t matter . . . I paint.
I paint my way to new worlds. My worlds. And I’m happy there. And I am happy to share. Step inside. Maybe make your own worlds.
Maybe together we can paint a new solar system, galaxy, a nameless place that spins us into a kaleidoscope of possibility. Imagine that. Imagine.
Bob Dylan spins on the turntable. He’s Tangled Up in Blue while I paint the sky red. Mountains crop from my heart as if this pulsing thing in my chest has the ability to shift the plates of the earth. And it does in fact have the power to do that and so much more. Like turn the cosmos inside out and find the missing moons. I’ve had them all along right here in my moonchild eyes. Here in the back pocket of my corduroy jeans. Here glowing in the fur of the belly of my black cat. Here tucked in my pillow case when I sleep at night and dream even more moons. The possibilities for moons are infinite.
You see, I was born under the sign of the moon on the day when they set off fireworks as if they could create comets out of gunpowder. Paint the night with a light show full of potassium nitrate in colors so vivid they break the color wheel.
I can do that. I am a firecracker wielding spicy handed paint brushes. I strike them like matches and set my world on fire. In a good way. Fire can purify, cleanse, turn the dirtiest objects into glimmering gems.
I pour on the color as if I am painting the world with golden keys, the ones that will set you free. I paint things that burst from the seams until their names no longer matter. Words and definitions themselves a trap. I cast my vote for possibility. For the things that have yet to be named. I create a place where bleeding is a good thing, the kind of miracle that happens when you let yourself go and color seeps into color into surfaces transformed to new geographies.
My geographies. My trinity of moons and mountains of miracles. Because no matter how dark the world gets, no matter how black and blue my body and my heart have been, I have always been able to color my way out. Follow the exit sign on the back of the 64 pack of Crayolas. It will lead you to the most amazing places. I know. I’ve been there. I make them.