"A Synesthetic Daydream"
16"x20" Acrylic on canvas board.
This piece turned out somewhat by accident, as really, it was just the result of me finally getting sick of seeing an unfinished painting I'd had sitting on one of my shelves. I recently acquired some glossier acrylics and figured now was as good a time as ever to try them out; thus, this is the image I ended up painting over an old piece of mine.
The original title for this painting was somewhere along the lines of "Occipital Amalgams of Jazz Music", "Occipital Jazz", or something to do with Tambourines, but it almost felt like a mistake to give such an extensive and forgettable title to an image that's so colorfully serene. So I settled on "A Synesthetic Daydream"~ which actually doesn't apply so much to the experience I'm about to relay, but I favor the sound of it, nonetheless....
A few years back, I had an occipital seizure when my eye doctor gave me a glaucoma test (which consists of shining a tiny blue light into one's eyes). I tested negative for any serious degree of epilepsy later on, but one of the more interesting things regarding the experience is that I still remember what being in the seizure looked like. It was musical and colorful ... really exhilarating, come to think of it. So much so that, when I woke up, being conscious and alive was painful in comparison.
Another way to put it, I suppose, is that it was equivocal to those moments where you're just about to fall asleep, but then all of a sudden you catch yourself, feel like you're plummeting so many hundreds of feet, and jolt back into being "awake". Only, in this scenario... the place I'd gone in my seizure was reality, and I was really just waking up into a dream that took place at the optometrist's. It took me weeks to adjust and actually accept that everything I saw when I when I was technically awake ... was what I was supposed to be seeing.
The seizure itself was just a magnificently confusing out of body experience; I heard Jason Castro's voice in some abysmal place in my soul, belting out "Mr. Tambourine Man"
( [url=http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2FFyFEdDbZvFg&h=qAQE... )
There were primary colors serenading the walls of my mind, so much like this scene from the movie The Soloist: [url=http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2FPTLdTP-gJeA&h=WAQG.... What I found the most fascinating was that, even though my eyes were open, I was completely blind to everything but these vibrant colors.
I wasn't thinking of any of this when I began to paint this. But, when all was said and done and I deemed this image finished -- I took one last look and was completely taken aback by the familiarity. This is one of the patterned auras I saw in my experience; not so much the seahorse, but in the background.
Overall, I'm rather satisfied with how this turned out. It was a very subconscious painting ... the seahorse reminds me of jazz music, trumpets and tambourines ... the embodiment of musical bliss and the texture of sound.
Edit: Another thing I just thought of was how the way this painting was made mirrors the experience. For instance, this was originally a pretty blase piece -- I was working on an acrylic painting of a woman that was really going nowhere. Now, all you can see is a little corner in the left where part of an outline shows through. It reminds of how, as I mentioned before, my eyes were wide open throughout the seizure, but I couldn't see past the colors.