This is a painting that illustrates my personal state of “overwhelm” at times. Full of symbolic meaning, I am naked showing my complete vulnerability to the world bound by the cord of the phone that continuously rings with somebody wanting something on the other end.  The people down in the corner are close friends and family shouting their opinions and directions at me or continually venting their own personal problems, slowly draining my energy.

      My heart feels like it is being ripped from my chest with a band-aid covering my past pain, as my anxiety rises and my heart pounds, a nail is being hammered in by a being who represents the never-ending time, schedules, and deadlines of my life.  He has the wings of a fly, hovering and buzzing nearby like the most irritating of pests reminding me of what’s next on the list. Someone sprawls out in front of the glowing television below soaking up all the media has to feed his brain, numbing himself from what is real. 

     My head is cracked open with a palette of paint resting inside, representing my true passion for painting, while up above, the world spills its demands and problems on me. 

Gunshots are heard off of my right shoulder.  The bullet speeds toward a stack of paintings that are typical of what some people expect me to paint… happy couples, music, hearts, and women.  I feel incapable of painting those at this moment.  My brain has left for vacation and strolls down a path with its poccadotted suitcase to return another day. 

     A tear drips down my cheek as I feel helpless to stop this feeling of “overwhelm”.  The path I kneels on talks of life’s timeline, beginning at birth, fitting into the worlds’ schedule, finding how I will contribute on it and plug into the daily routine as I question what it’s all about all along while it seems to speed faster and faster toward the end. It is a dark but fun sarcastic piece portraying only a small part of me that surfaces only occasionally. But just to be safe the painting comes with a warning “do not buy weird paintings, they may contain real thoughts”, mine or maybe yours.