Villa Pisani Gates through Trees

Italian storms have a magnitude and power that I have never experienced anywhere else. The tension builds, this can go on for days, and then the end of days event is with you. One such event occurred in the early hours of yesterday. There was a bolt of lightning fit to set my dry hillside on fire. Then roll after roll of thunder.

This was the moment of reckoning with mortality. What would I leave behind? what in fact makes up the footprint from the past?

These paintings are story’s from a past I have never lived, whispered voices hanging in shadows seen by forgotten eyes. These are a remembering, something that will say Villa Pisani was loved, she saw many things, and a story teller heard her voice as she lay dying.