After the accident.

I had a bad accident in my left hand that required tendon surgery. My father recently had another brush with bad news of the medical kind. Our reaction was the same : My father painted everyday this summer in his beloved Euskadi. As soon as my cast was off I launched with more urgency into painting. Nothing else seems to matter. Not my search for a new house (which must have a studio of some sort), nor whether I ever become famous or wealthy as long as I can pay for paints, not negative relationships or even distractions regarding whether I am a good enough painter or even questions off faith and self-value.

Renoir had to have his brushes tied to his hand so he could paint due to his rheumatism. I am a fan of that even if I don't like Renoir.

I started painting in a quite unexplored area of Los Angeles pictorically. About 80 years ago, Wilshire Blvd. encompassed everything that was happening and it was a glistening Art Deco mecca. Today it is a third Korea Town, a third salvadorean ghetto and a third everything else. The mixture makes for some interesting "canyons" that produce surreal landscapes at sunset or when it rains.