~ Gazing out at the dimming, tropical evening through our living room window, I spotted the ebony beetles swirling around the bushes and the pine tree.  "Abuelo!" I squeaked with delight, "let's go get a cocuyo!" Shuffling into the kitchen, my grandfather fetched  a wide-lip, glass bottle he had prepared by punching holes into the metal lid with a hammer and nail.  We walked out the front door and stood there mesmerized, watching the beetles fly to and fro.  One cocuyo landed on the stone pathway.  I tip toed very slowly towards the little creature, stooped down gently and quickly picked it up with my chubby fingers.  Abuelo unscrewed the top of the bottle and I released the beetle inside as he placed the lid back on.  Rushing back into house, I turned off the lights then blanketed the bottle around with my hands, leaving a bit of space for us to peak through.  How awesome!  Cocuyo's eyes turned into tiny, green neons, bright dots against his little black head, illuminating the darkness in the bottle with a most surreal light. ~

The pyrophorus or cocuyo is a type of firefly typically found in Cuba.  Their color ranges from dark brown to slick black and their bodies are light generators causing their eyes to glow green. When the head of a cocuyo moves back and forth, it makes a clicking sound. Their eggs are also luminous, taking several years to grow.  The cocuyo grows up to 3 cm in size and the adults feed on pollen or tiny insects.

When I was younger, my father and I would arrive at the beach by seven on summer Saturday and Sunday mornings. The ocean seemed asleep at that early time of day.  The sun, lukewarm and yellow, yawned on the horizon,  gently casting its lazy light upon the calm, glassy sea.

But I was ready to go!  I would slap a cheap rubber diving mask on my face and plunge into the water.  Since I never learned how to swim properly, I spent most of my time under it.  That is where the magic was.  I'd see schools of little sandy fish, a crab here and there, and small puffers on occasion.  Once, a shiny, sword-like fish crossed my view and took off  like a flash of lightning.  Excited and breathless, I described this weird thing I saw to my father, and he said it was a "good thing" it took off like lightning because he was sure that it was a barracuda!

I would imagine what it would be like to live underwater with the sea creatures.  How fantastic if my lungs adapted, and I could freely roam and feast my eyes on this mysterious, alien world!     Breathtaking.

This wonder has stayed with me.  Through my paintings I have been able to give this wonder a voice.

I have taken plentiful figure drawing courses, but depicting ultra realistic figures is not my goal when creating the paintings in my "Deep Sea Series."  Ideas stir in my mind, then mentally I dive under the ocean and begin to see the images.  As I draw the cartoons, (the fine arts type), there is a continuous dialogue between my mind, my eyes, my hand and what I am feeling.
Once the drawings match my visions, they are transferred onto the canvases and, as I am painting, I swim underwater again.   Colors float, dissipate, blur, vibrate, become transparent.  Eyes, hands or mouths, tails, fins distort.  Life is always moving, even while it stands still.
Approaching a painting in this manner is very different than working from real life. And I enjoy doing that also.  But I find great poetry and freedom in creating what in our reality is, so far, not possible.