Qeshm

It is incredible how I can be on one side of the world, where the sun gives its heat freely, and realize that on the other corner, the blast of winter is hovering over a drenched forest, waiting for autumn to say its goodbyes. On the island of Qeshm, in the south of Iran, where desert life is raw, and most of the people who inhabit this island are both aware and unaware of the magical awe of the space and size of the skies that surround them. Qeshm is an arrow-shaped Iranian island in the Strait of Hormuz of the Persian Gulf, measuring roughly 1,500 square kilometers in surface area. I am seriously considering opening a gallery here on the island. After closing my gallery in Palm Springs, I seem to have a longing for something about desert life. I swam in warm water, rode camels, and ate plenty of white fish alongside fermented garlic. In the attached painting, I believe that I captured the island's slow pace. The guys who rode through on their motorcycles decided to stop, drink from a thermos of black tea, poured into small cups, and savor the shortbread biscuits brought from home, amongst the tiny bit of shade. I am well-suited for this lifestyle, I think, but I also wondered if I actually lived here, I would find it too slow and miss the urban go-go and rush of the many choices I have at hand. There doesn't have to be a better place, no preferred place, unless you make a habit of not being present with where you are at geographically. I placed my easel in sight of the young men and became part of their resting spot, part of their day.