To know that we know what we know, and to know that we do not know what we do not know—that is true knowledge.

Do not imagine the world as a sphere, but as an infinite plane disguised as a circle, looping back on itself only in illusion. The same is true of the heavens: all the spheres in the sky are vast, infinite planes—if only we could learn to see them that way.
I have an abiding obsession with that archaic, forbidden realm upon which our sanity so delicately depends. My work inhabits a lush, cryptic space—a mystical, spiritually potent dimension where cosmology collides with the inner drama of self-investigation, psychosis, and the enduring mysteries of Isis.
Fate and destiny. Chance and luck. They wrestle with nihilism, cynicism, sarcasm… and orgasm.

I draw inspiration from ancient shamanic traditions—those that speak openly of journeys outside the body, across time and distance, into worlds where spiritual beings and deities reveal the deep architecture of existence.

If one contemplates my paintings and looks beyond the surface, they may not merely understand, but experience. It is a language beyond thought.
In art, as in nature, everything is a mystery. Its revelation is a creative act. The visionary begins where intellect and language collapse. Art is our greatest inspiration toward spiritual unity—and our most essential mystery.

Beneath our skin, we are nothing but blood, bone, and decay. But if we keep digging, deeper still, we might unearth something infinite and redemptive: the immortal powers of the soul.

I hope to see you again yesterday.