My life long friend and fellow artist, Barry Bunker RIP. In the “wind caves” of Scottsdale AZ never to miss a gag.
Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.
Edgar Degas
India ink using pen and brush, on paper
I rarely explain my work, but with this painting I’d like to. In some way our parrot here represents my slightly Hispanic heritage. My Great Great Grandpa,William Roxburgh came to the America’s in 1841. He left Scotland via Liverpool and made his home in Vera Cruz, there he married Juana Beltran who’s Mexican blood is in my veins. Their son Alfred Felix came to San Diego in 1899. His wife Margaret was an artist who loved to draw and paint Balboa Park from it’s inception.
watercolors on cotton paper, 1/29/15
4′ x 5′ ink, charcoal and acrylic on canvas 1995
The previous artwork was all created before 1995. “Otto” was the last painting from those years. There was a beautiful exhibit that year. I then felt it was time to concentrate on my “Scenic artist” endeavors, lucky timing.
Although these paintings were created during during tense times.
They were then and are now a transport to Freedom.
four figures entered the dream
two of which had but one face
as a group we traveled towards a spring
our thirst the only bond
I swallow my dreams
to taste their magic
Vision after vision
lift up and through these walls
and still I am here