I do not even want to go to work, I just want to stay home and paint, write, read in the art books, draw on sidewalks, throw pip in the air, be with my father and talk with him, cry with him, tell him about what is to happen, I pray that it is real and not a dream, that this is the will of the FAther in the Kingdom of Heaven and that He would know that this project, this showing, the exhibition, is one that I want to display His GLORY, even though some have said that some of my paintings seem to degrade religion, but I respond telling them, these are not religious paintings, they are paintings of man and woman, life and death, human telling and untelling, yes, some of the paintings may resemble religion, but this is not the objective, it is the emotion spilled out in these so called religious or gospeL paintings, it is the pain, the globs, the shrieKs, the miracles, that so very much connect to the human spirit, and all of us at some point have believed we held a human spirit or soul within us, the possibility is there, alive, or half-alive, agnostic thinkers, but I am painting the possibility of such miracles, or the imagining, or the interpretation, of such gospel happenings. And these happenings are not just limited to the sacred text, they are very much NOW and happening NOW, for it is us humans standing around, laying around, living, dieing in our chairs, leaning against walls, jumping onto tracks, winning the lotto, losing the lotto, picking up cigarettes on the ground, staring at each other from far away, from close up, smelling each other's minty and sometimes, bad, breadth.

Can you see the fragments I am seeing? Can you see it coming together, as one, as one strong and important, heavy, show about what it means to lift our eye lids and forever see our days new each day, becoming old and sitting in our benches, looking and remembering into faces across from us?