When the sun sinks into the mountains, I don't hear the silent night or imagine the noises of the far away city streets. I hear a slow explosion, an accelerating locomotive and flames burning brighter. Here I see the setting sun as a start for another day, not the morning that follows. At the break of dawn we are born anew but shed our skin the night before. In the flames of the red sun the mould melts away revealing the essence within.
The sound of the sun I heard, it was a count-down to work, to paint and pour all that the sun left behind onto the canvas. Now after three months I'm in the middle of that and preparing my next exhibition coming in the autumn. I feel lucky to have seen the burning sun, to hear it, to hear the dark woods and to share it all with a close friend.
Daimonji, Kyoto, April 20th 2018
