With every warrior painted, I experience a part of me, a part of us all, coming to life for mere survival and an honor that teters on the brink of insanity and humbled compassion.
I woke one night around 3:30am. I had a dream of a Masai warrior. I don’t remember much of the entire next day, until about 6p.m. in the evening. I was in my garage studio. I do recall starting to paint around 4p.m. I was standing in my studio over a painting I don’t recall painting. This is one of those instances, and I have had many, where the line between my dreams and reality gets incredibly blurred. My wife
came into the studio and put her hand on my shoulder, which more or less ‘woke’ me from my dream. She simply said, “She’s gorgeous!”. I looked down at the painting. I had just painted Masai. This started the ‘Warrior Series’ that continues today and inspired ‘The Honored Ones’ series. I feel the past speaking to me in the most compassionate and centered voices. I try not think about it. I trust it is speaking to me for a good reason. This painting touched me at my core. It now belongs to a dear friend of mine, who at times, has also appeared in my dreams.