I currently live in an area of the world where the car is vital to one’s existence. There is no public transportation or way to get around other than sitting sequestered in the stiff confines of a car. This is something I detest for a number of reasons, but never more so than at night.
I am not meant to drive at night. I am too easily distracted by the open empty landscape of the darkness here.
For me the landscape of night takes on a mesmerizing kind of vitality. The deep blue of hills start to churn, the roads stretch and wind like conveyors of a massive machine. The sky raises and falls like a puffing bellows – the skin of a indigo heart.
And everywhere distracting pinpoints of light illuminate patterns of land and the thoughts of designers. These form chains, hollow rows of form, constellations of possibility and radiant passages to other worlds.
I find these forms flowing through my work all the time. The night universe made manifest as a corner of some Dyson sphere in which my heart dwells.
This is the orchestra of my drawing mind. This is the blood of the colors I use. This is the floating world which defines the masses I create. This is the dream that infiltrates the mind of my opening irises.
This is why you would prefer I had the option of taking public transportation.