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Posts Tagged ‘time’

Come see the progress!
http://www.therevelationpainting.com
You are the first to see it.

A very large piece of  The Four Horsemen scene will be on the site by January 31st!  It can be found in the photos and there will be a blog about it describing the making of this section.  Hope to see you there! 

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Dedication

 

To my children:

 

This journal, associated journals and The Revelation Painting are dedicated and belong to my three children in effort to help them understand that sometimes in life, there are things beyond our understanding and that we are all placed on this earth for a reason.  We may never know our own specific reason if we do not search for answers and look for beauty in ordinary, not just extraordinary things.  Ultimately, we are the masters of our own destinies regardless of whom or what we feel may be the blame for our misfortunes.  I want the three of you to realize that when each of you were born, within your first breath of life, you filled my heart with a passion I have never known since, it is something very rare and sacred which I carry.  The most important thing in life to remember is that it does not matter what material things you have when you leave this earth, what is important is what you take in your heart, leave in other hearts and what you leave behind for the earth.

  

To my family:

 

Always remember the warm, balmy nights where we gazed up and into the stars with our mother who rest amongst them now.  She traced giant purple people eaters, cut our hair in ways we almost shaved bald but little did we realize, she was planting our footsteps amongst the giants.  Our father was not born with a book in his hand on “fathering”, as we were not either.  The most important thing to remember is that a measure of a man or woman throughout a lifetime is to have the ability to realize our mistakes and remedy them.  I know this will sound familiar:  “You will never learn by talking, you will learn by listening.”  How will you measure a man for what he has learned in almost a century if you do not simply take the time to listen?  To all of you, thank you for giving me the honor of knowing you in our lives, you live within me.  Without you all, I would have been blind!

 

Humanity:

 

The muddy red African tribes of today survive similarly, to how my ancestors once did which is an appealing attribute; forging the earth for food and using their hands to acquire what is needed to survive although the click of technology would make it much simpler a task.  The echo of mystical chants thanking the creator for life remains throughout time and encircles the globe but we are oblivious.  We cannot hear past our televisions, our pounding, angry music, we cannot see past our selfishness.  Within a twenty four hour world, those sacred sounds are drown out by the sounds of bars dumping beer bottles several times a night, sirens wailing on their way to pick up a drug overdose who has stopped breathing, a gunshot victim, or some other “unfortunate” victim.

 

We have lost many of the beautiful things given us to create a paradise.  We have ignored the cries of the earth and its members as they drown in naked agony.  The difference between us and the wild beast of the land is that we are supposed to have higher intelligence, we are supposed to be able to find solutions, we are the caretakers bound to help one another, we are the future and only as strong as our weakest member.  At this very moment, our weakest member is dying and it does not take the unsurpassed intelligence of man to realize what that means for the future of humankind.  I am guilty as well, I am hypocritical but I am learning to hear the echoes of mystical chants and within those chants, there is a profound sadness as urgency fades and time waits for no one, not me or you.

 

The Revelation Painting began as simply the religion of the book and through research and evaluation ended in an exposure of truth.  It is a truth of the corruption of humanity and selfishness of humankind.  Mysteries of Revelation revealed and it is self which self ultimately destroys.  To look at the bible, it is a book to teach us the “right” way to exist amongst one another and it states that at the end of time, sons and daughters will become prophets.  We can ask ourselves if God gave those gifts, or in simply evaluating our actions, our past and ourselves, we develop the tools required to create change and save not only our world but also our very lives.  If only we could sacrifice convenience for time, we could reverse the ignorance and damage we have created while given command of our paradise.

 

I imagine this masterpiece scattered upon the ruins of a world we once called home.  It is massive in size and in its messages.  It seems as though the world is spinning out of control in so many ways.  There is no place to jump off and start anew, this is what we were given and we are squandering it away and in the end it will be too late to ask who will save us now?  Although I am unsure if we are teetering on the edge of the Apocalypse, my Instincts of survival push me forward, yet my intuition tells me to prepare myself and to make things right with our creator.  I can start from today to create change, there is no one who can stop me, and I can become responsible and use the charge given me over the earth.  In my humility, my effort may create change and inspire another.

 

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Dreams

This blog is copied from The Journal of Dreams. One of seven journals to be published after the painting’s release in 12/2010. A time investment of twelve years will be complete at that time. The Journal of Dreams begins in July 1998 after awakening from deep sleep July 13Th, 1998 and realizing night was filled with dreams of The Revelation Painting.

July 12Th, 1998

Today is my mother, Mary Ann’s birthday. She seemed somewhat sad earlier on the telephone talking about a project she was working on and asked for my help.  I obliged knowing it would be a futile effort this time as it had been for the past 10 years. She had been tied up working feverishly on Spindletop, Texas and her belief our family was the original owner of that land. Although we had been down the road to Spindletop many times in the past, I felt obligated to help her, to give her hope in her desolate life deep in the West Virginia mountains.

Mary Ann

Mary Ann

She is a very skilful, self-taught painter but has lost her desire to paint in the past years becoming consumed by isolation and depression. I remembered her telling me once that when my youngest sister left home, she would have no reason to continue life. My sister had moved out some time before. When my mother said that, I gazed deeply into her blue eyes for any sign of untruth and it was not there. She was telling me that she would die of loneliness whether from a broken heart or suicide, it was clear that she was serious.

Whether the Spindletop endeavor was a delusion or not, Mary Ann was my mother and not only did I know what she meant by stating she would have no reason to continue life, I knew that focus on Spindletop would create a kind of child in the house she so longed for, missed, and it would ultimately save her life. Nearly everyday I called her and talked about Spindletop and the information I had found in the libraries, Internet, and other sources. It kept her busy and that kept her alive.

There were three things that would fire up passion in my mother; Spindletop, talking about her paintings, and asking her to relive the story of her death when she was twelve years old. We had talked about Spindletop for months, then months became years, and for some reason, perhaps because it was her birthday, today the topic was shifted to “the story” of her death at twelve. Although I had heard the story many times growing up, each time it was retold and relived was like the first time.

This is the seed of The Revelation Painting and I am convinced of that beyond any doubt. When Mary Ann told the story of her death in such artistic detail and emotion it was like I had been beside her and saw every detail. I asked my mother to tell me the story and she eagerly agreed. Her voice softened as she began to remember, like the humble and respect of being given another chance at life. Her voice was as it had been when I was a child and she was about to tell me something about life that demanded full attention. She began to speak.

“It happened when I was twelve years old. I was laying beside my mom in the bed when all the sudden I felt like I couldn’t breathe. No air would move in or out, I was suffocating! I tried to move and I couldn’t, I tried to yell out to my mother and I couldn’t. I was going to die and I knew it. I was afraid and began to panic. My heart was pounding, my eyes were wide open and just when I thought I could not take it anymore a feeling of calm came over me. My eyes closed and I didn’t have to breathe any longer.
The room became bright. I sat up and I looked for the source of the light to find shiny, golden stairs at the foot of the bed, illuminated and so clean. The stairs were long, so long that I couldn’t see the top of them. Something made me go to them, I had to see where they went and I knew I was supposed to walk up them. Upon stepping on them and walking up it was like I didn’t have to try, almost like floating. My feet touched them but I didn’t breathe hard, I don’t think I had to breathe anymore.
When I got to the top, there was a man dressed all in white standing before a beautiful pearl gate. His skin was golden. Not a white man, not a black man but something between like golden brown. He had piercing green eyes but his face was friendly, I knew he would not hurt me, he glowed of love and peace. The gate was closed but I could see through. The floor was shiny like glass and the glare of the shine was so brilliant I could not see if it was translucent or any color, it was just so shiny clean like the glare on glass.
All of the sudden the man said: “Where have you been?” in a startling voice! I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what he meant, I hadn’t been anywhere. I didn’t answer, he opened the gate and said in a hurried voice: “Hurry up, he’s been waiting for you!” I felt as though I had to hurry and stepped through the gate. He said: “You shouldn’t keep him waiting.” I remember thinking: “Who?”, but then my attention was drawn to so many people to my right side dressed all in white. A feeling of love, warmth and happiness overwhelmed me.
I tried to see their faces and although I knew them, I couldn’t see their faces. I knew that they loved me and were happy to see me. Hundreds of people and I could feel their love. I don’t know how long I stood there when the man said: “Come this way, he is waiting.” We walked to a door which I was compelled to push open and when I did, the brightest light I had ever seen nearly blinded me. I knew that if I wasn’t supposed to be there the light would have blinded me and I wasn’t afraid.

There was a man…something like a man I think. The light was so bright I was unable to make him out. His face was so bright it was impossible to see his eyes, or nose or mouth. Suddenly he began to speak and it was like thunder! I still was not scared though. His voice spoke every language at the same time but I was able to hear my language. It sounded like a creek flowing, like bubbles on the rocks…ploop, plop, doop, doop. He said: “Where have you been, I have been waiting for you?”

I told him I was with my family, my mother and he said it was my time now, I had to come with him. Feeling afraid I told him I wanted to go back to my mother and he said I had been bad. It was time for me to come with him. I tried to think how I had been bad and couldn’t think of what I had done but somehow know I had done something. I started to cry and pleaded with him to let me go back to my family. He said: “I will let you go but remember I will come for you like a thief in the night, you will not know when!”

He continued to say not to tell anyone about this until I was 18 years old. He said: “You will have three chances.” I started to ask what he meant by “three chances” and his voice became very loud and he said: “Run, run now before I change my mind!” All I thought was to run and run fast! As I was running through the door he said: “You will have three chances” and started to laugh. I continued to run through the door, past all the people and down the stairs back to the bed lying beside my mother and I didn’t tell anyone what happened.

When I try to remember back to what happened after I made it back to the bed I can’t remember anything. You are the first I told about it and I was much older than 18 before I told the story. When you were a baby and I looked in your eyes, I knew you were different. Your eyes scared me, but I don’t know why, like a bottomless pit. I don’t know what the dream meant but I know that you are different and you always have been. I knew it since the day you were born and I looked at your eyes.”

The Eye

The Eye

 
In West Virginia millions of stars light the sky at night. Within them lives imagination and something comforting. Oddly enough Mary Ann lives where a creek babbles the words only she can hear. She doesn’t talk about what she hears at night in those dark, dark mountains of West Virginia where the absolute sounds of silence are often times as loud as thunder and the thunder drowns out the sounds of life and the living. Sometimes when I visit, in the middle of the night she says: “Let’s go outside and lay on the picnic table and look at the stars.”

Mary Ann is changing, or maybe she changed long ago. When a child leaves home for a time and returns everything is different. I never realized that during star-gazing with my mother there are voices within a creek flowing less than 20 feet away. West Virginia is known as “almost heaven” oddly enough. I can’t say that I have ever heard the voice of God talking to me in all languages through the bubbling and babbling crystal clear waters or that I ever realized it was just us three; Mary Ann, me and God.

Little do I know why my mother fears my eyes, it is disturbing. Her cracking voice of memory tells me that the fear of God she has within her is tied to the piercing, green eyes of the gatekeeper at the top of the stairs the day she almost lost her life.  It makes perfect sense to me. I have a feeling my eyes remind her of him and she struggles with mixed emotions of fear and love. Somewhere along the line I realized that I am one of the three chances she was offered in lieu of life, and that this painting is what she molded me my entire life for through the story of heaven and God, art and imagination.

Could it be that my mother was spared to become the messenger and her destiny was changed for the greater good of the world?  Everyone ponders existence, especially their own and when trying to see what my mother’s existence was for, I see The Revelation Painting.  When I ponder my own existence, I see the massive painting, and feel the warmth of light and energy, and know that I am one of the “three chances”.  Although still unsure of the three chances and what it truly means, I am sure that I am a valuable part of it.  There are five children, 3 sisters and 1 brother.  Three of us were born one year apart, the others some time later.  Could it be that the 3 born a year apart are the chances?  Time will tell.

July 13Th, 1998  to be continued

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The Pale Horse is still a work in progress.  His rider will be a skeleton.  The Pale Horse’s rider is named Death so I painted not only the horse with the green tint of decomposition (see the Medical Examiner blog), but the grass dying as he rides over and near it.  The orange is the base of Hell which follows.  There will be a mystery embedded here when it is complete.

This is the second horse I painted from The Four Horsemen scene.  Although the canvas is 4 feet by 4 feet, I thought that painting him in the center would surely give room for distance and perspective but I was wrong.  He will not be as far back as I originally calculated.  There will be a blog to follow about the meaning of the horse’s related to time and their significance.  The Pale Horse’s time is coming, maybe closer than I was originally thinking.  It may have been meant to be this way. (CLOSER) 

Please note the color is off here.  The horse is actually greener than it appears here.  I am still working on this horse.  I have taken the “hump” from his neck behind his head in order to show more of his skeleton rider.  I like the eyes, they are from the original attempt of the horse’s face when I did not realize hors’e eyes are on the sides of their heads, not the front.

From the front perspective looking at the horse, the right eye is darker as it is in decomposition.  Some of the green hue is seen here.  The horse will have a human hair mane and tail-blond with green highlights.

Watch for more….The pictures will be at:  http://photos.therevelationpainting.com

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