A Parallax

The image is a brief glimpse of a way of thinking about our journey on the path to reunification with source, and the great freedom we have in choice.

We enter the image from a point of view above and beyond human perspective. From this point we are given an overview of what lies at a distance— a choice of progressing toward one of two horizons, equally real and bright, but representative of different tones of creation that are related but not of the same space. Neither horizon is superior or inferior to the other.

Regardless of which path we choose, we must make our way past a human-made edifice - a metaphor for past creation and the solidification of idea into form. Squarely in the center of the painting, its presence cannot be ignored from either path.

Vinyl flags from both realities are anchored to the structure at the same point on its thin edge, re-emphasizing its nature as facade and pointing to the location where overlapping choices part ways. The flags continue to flap in the wind demanding human attention in an otherwise natural landscape - look! - there is possibility before you.

The path on the left guides us via rope and post behind the structure. It passes by a thriving rosemary bush- the herb of remembrance- rooted near a sandy boardwalk leading to the vista of another shore. The path on the right is slowly being overtaken by dune and vegetation. It progresses via a sandy stretch that is pocked with human footprints not yet erased by wind or tide, indicating the presence of abundant life, beyond which is visibly clear water.

The figure in the foreground faces a third body of water and thus is perhaps unaware of the flags. It is dwarfed by creation, or alternatively, is humbled in stature, and stands in solitude within the vast jurisdiction of choice. In this place the water takes the form of a bay or inlet, generally a place of harbor, rest, and familiarity. Metaphorically, this is an environment that can be difficult for humans to emerge from, especially when we associate our safety with familiarity and equate the unknown with danger. Yet neither choice of path holds this imagined despair, which the figure will recognize when they turn to choose.

A Parallax, 24” x 42”, 2008-2020, was painted in oil on glue-chalk gesso over glue size on cradled hardboard panel.