48" x 96", Oil on Linen
The blossoming dream projected into the train of thought, new inside old, germination and gestation in the belly of imagination; a foetal flowering, if you will. Who knows what form an idea may take, or where it may take you? Is it possible to elucidate the lucid dream, or can we only talk this side of the veil, to paraphrase Omar Khayyam? What is this new vision? Blessing in Disguise - or Trojan Horse? Beware of pears bearing gifts...
Here we find Peregrine Man near the end of his journey, standing upon a checkerboard earth that stretches on forever - but what game is being played? Where are the other pieces? It would seem that the normal rules don’t apply - he is in control, and able to move anywhere on the board. To master one’s mind is to enter the end-game, where the prize is two words that elude all but a few - know thyself.