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The Vision that inspired “OHM”

 

I was in third grade, walking home from school one day. I had a vision so powerful that it was to define my art, art that I would one day call Metarealism. There was a sensation of a hand reaching down, twisting and opening the top of my head like a soda can cap. There were now two of me, one of a liquid me pouring in from the outside, and into the second me, which felt like an empty vessel in the shape of my body.

 

Then abruptly I found myself lying on the floor, holding my stomach. I was a white haired old man that had been shot at least four times. The blood was hot and it hurt a lot. I seemed to be near a podium, which was off to the left and above my head. I saw the feet and legs of both male and female running around me. I felt these bullets in me and I knew that I was dying. As I started to die, I had the proverbial flashback of my life. As I was watching this flashback, it began to go into fast forward, and became blurred as the moment of death approached. And then the flashback became its own flashback. At that moment, my consciousness shifted. I noticed that each flashback was in a different time context than the one before it. I was going backward in time, thus making me wonder about the reality of time and space.

 

As I wondered about this, I noticed that in these flashbacks, we repeated events with the same people life after life. But somehow I saw that where a conflict with someone or something was resolved, this experience was not repeated in the next life. Somehow I saw this as I saw my many lives flashback in reverse.

 

Then the vision shifted to another level. All I could see was blackness with green lines forming a grid before me, above me, below, beside me, and moving in all directions. I then realized, as I perceived these lines that they were alive – they held consciousness.

 

Where these luminous green lines intersected, there was a person, or as I thought at the time, a consciousness unit. At the moment I realized these lines were alive, I said to myself, ”Oh…this…this is God’s mind.” And I came out of the vision. The outgrowth of that vision is my journey, my inner dialog that has manifested itself as a visual dialog. That visual dialog I call Metarealism.

 

This vision I had as a child is the kind of vision that transforms. As the years have passed, I have had many more visions. And my art has become the outward expression of my journey to understanding these metaphors of reality…

 

Lucero

 

 

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