I spend a lot of my time daydreaming. You may not know it by looking at me, our conversations are probably (mostly) lucid, but rest assured, somewhere in the back of my mind I am far, far away. And somewhere in the distance of that faraway place lies a black hole that I just can't wait to reach. Once caught in its pull, I hold my breath and smile, waiting to see what awaits on the other side.
While I'm there I take notes. Jot down little details. Commit scenes and the beings I meet to memory. Some of them are too obscure or surreal for my brain to translate, and these attempts end up in sketchbooks that pile up in boxes, under my desk, my bed, on shelves... not quite wholly refined. Others, however, remain vivid enough to sprout from my fingers and onto the canvas, brought to life in a riot of color and form and abstraction. The people (for if you strip away their physical differences, people is indeed what they are) I present in these paintings have lives of their own. They live in a world as complex and awe inspiring as our own mother Earth, and they have stories to tell just as we do. My job is to dictate these stories and to bring them back as intact as possible. To share the knowledge that yes, there is indeed life out there.
Their stories are nothing new perhaps, but their "otherness" is what allows us to view them in a unique context. They know love, joy, friendship, parenthood, success. But they are also no strangers to pain, to loss, to heartache and heartbreak. Once we look beyond the surface, it's easy to see that they are not that different from you and I.
While I never know what to expect when I visit these far away worlds, the letters that they send back with me, letters I am here to share with you, always begin the same way-
Dear Earthling, I hope you are well...