...dreams are made on...

Prospero:
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
 Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
 Is rounded with a sleep.

Shakespeare “the Tempest” Act 4 Scene 1

…..I am just one of millions who are familiar with Shakespeare....who delight in the profundity of his words....and like so many, my relationship with his work is very personal....my interpretation of his words crystalizes my own awareness to reality...

…..The spirits in my thoughts inhabit my worldly reality as much as people in it's actuality do... The “Tempest” offers me a venue to investigate how I feel about this cerebral reality.......my painting started as a white surface....as if beckoning me to enter the afterlife.....i sat before it for a week allowing my thoughts to journey into blankness....and then...one day... reddish scratchings appeared...slowly these scratchings began to adopt presences....