When I first arrived at the San Francisco art insititue, I wasn’t yet aware that it was a former monastery. My silent journeys through the days, to each class, were an endless hall of wonder. I learned from some of the most incredible people I have ever met. The school is now closed, yet in a way it survives. So much a part of the rich historical fabric of the bay area, and I’m grateful I was able to be among the students there.
This was the first painting I made during the classes. In the introductory painting class. It began a series I called Sunshine Surrealism, in which I confronted my own grief and navigated through it. I never really looked for galleries to approach to send my work to, but this was a psychological landscape I will always remember. My father passed away some time during the painting of this series. I’ll always remember having this family around me to help me during the grieving process. I was devasted, but I found my way through, and some times, that’s the best I can expect. It’s been years since I looked at this painting, but it’s essentially the moment my grief passed from complete devastation into acceptance and calm, and I hope it helps in this crisis we’re all in, which there is so much to grieve, yet hope still remains.