I think this painting speaks beautifully to themes of mortality and resilience—the red buds almost seem to burn against the chaotic background (ocotillo is sometimes translated as “torch made of pine”). It's reminiscent of how creativity itself can be a form of rebellion against death consciousness. The way the ocotillo reaches upward with those flame-like blooms feels like a perfect visual metaphor for transcending mortality through creative expression. The desert holds so much beauty and inspiration.
Last night we were blessed with our first real storm of the year—thunder and lightning (very, very frightening, as the song goes). It woke me up, and I got up and watched the roof scuppers gush water. It was a beautiful sight. My rain gauge registered almost a quarter inch, and you can practically feel the desert exhaling in gratitude. It's fascinating how the landscape transforms after rainfall, how plants and creatures emerge from their dormancy with such urgency.
The ocotillos caught my attention the other day. Those stark branches suddenly crowned with fiery red blooms—what perfect symbols of life's persistence in harsh conditions. I pulled out this 30" x 40" canvas and simply had a go at capturing that defiance.
Looking at this piece now, I'm considering a few final touches: perhaps more definition in the lower background where the blues and greens transition, maybe strengthening the shadow beneath the ocotillo to ground it more firmly in space, and possibly enhancing some of the textural elements in the background to frame the central image more deliberately. I’m not sure I’ll do anything - just thinking out loud.
My approach to making art has changed radically over these past years. I'm less fixated on outcomes now, more immersed in process. What fascinates me is becoming conscious of my sublimation—watching my thought processes unfold as I create. This phenomenon seems connected to Becker's ideas about creative work as an immortality project, a way of managing our death anxiety through meaningful production.
The medium doesn't seem to matter much anymore. Whether I'm photographing, painting, or writing, the fundamental experience feels remarkably similar—this conversation between mortality consciousness and creative response. The ocotillo, with its torch-like blooms emerging from seemingly dead branches after rain, feels like the perfect visual metaphor for this dialogue between death and creation.
