I painted this cause I felt like the play was about life, you know, and life is about color. And we each get to come along and we add our own color to the painting. And even though it’s not very big, the painting, you still have to figure that it goes on forever, you know, you still have to figure that it goes on forever, you know, in each direction, to like infinity, cause that’s kind of like life. It’s really crazy if you think about it, a hundred years ago some guy that I never met came to this country with a suitcase. He has a son, who has a son, who has me. So at first, when I was painting, I was thinking, up here, maybe that was that guy’s part of the painting, and down here, that’s my part of the painting. And then I started to think, what if we’re all in the painting everywhere? What if we’re in the painting before we’re born, what if we’re in it after we die? And these colors we keep adding, what if they keep getting added on top of one another until eventually we’re not different colors anymore, we’re just… one thing, just one painting? My dad isn’t with us anymore. He’s not alive, but he’s with us. He’s with me every day. It all just sort of fits somehow. Even if you don’t understand how yet. And people will die in our lives, people that we love. In the future, maybe tomorrow, maybe years from now. It’s kind of beautiful, right, if you think about it. Just because someone dies, just because you can’t see them or talk to them anymore, it doesn’t mean they’re not still in the painting. I think that’s maybe the point of the whole thing. There’s no dying. There’s no you, or me, or them, it’s just us. And this sloppy, wild, colorful, magical thing that has no beginning, has no end, it’s right here. I think it’s us.
*Special thanks to Liz and John…
The Season Of Myths 