Blue Ocean


I tried to drink but the cup was empty, plate fell to the floor void of a meal and shattered in anger. I screamed out loud but my echoes bounced back, screaming right back at me. Tears flowed like black water, eyes stained in darkness, stricken by my mascara. I feel hollow. An empty space without you. I have slipped into my blue ocean again 

The Sand Man


I called him “The Sand Man” because he reminded me of a controversial character in the movie “Django Unchained” one of the most brilliant productions of Quentin Tarantino. I quote , “Django….. You’ve got sand….. I’ve got no use for a slave with sand . That was a term used to state that a slave had tried to run away ….. That there was sand under his feet meant that he had attempted an escape. 

It was not my initial intention to portray my character as such, but the painting lead me where it wanted to go and finally I saw this connection, having watched the movie somany times. 

There is more to the skill of an artist than the artist can comprehend.

‘The Sand Man’ is on view at the Joyce Gordon Gallery in Oakland . Please visit links below for more details

Self Portrait Contest

I here in extend my sincere to all who supported me through the self portrait contest. Voting ended on April 21st and I have emerged as a semi-finlist . I am keeping my fingers crossed for the final results which will be published on May 4th. Please visit the links below for updates

Thanks for your support .



Evolution involves our physicality , how we change as we migrate from place to place. It goes deeper into our spirituality, who are we ?, where did we come from?, why are we here ? and where shall we end up? Does it end there or does it go on? Howmany realms did we travel through?  Howmany dimensions have we lived through? Where next? What next?

She lies in a foreshortened position, almost with religious notations. She is on a journey of self discovery, she is “Evolved”

Check out this piece at Joyce Gordon Gallery Oakland. For more information, please visit links below

Bus 38 from Webster to Powell

As part of my immigrant experience, I decided to blog about my ride on this bus. So last week Thursday after my Easter dance rehearsal at church, I boarded the bus 38 heading back home. As I got on it, an African American guy, probably in his early 40’s had a boom box in his back pack and had flooded the bus with the music of the ‘Isley Brothers’ . He had made a conscious effort to stand as there were available seats. The music was loud and he sang along, “whose that lady……. Who…s..e that ladie……. Sexy lady…….. Who…..s..e that ladie…….”. He seemed happy and in a zone but was snared at by the disapproving eyes of other passengers who would steal glances and the look away with a frown. I must admit though, I did enjoy the music and he had a really nice voice. I sat close to the back rows , not too far from him. The bus made a stop and a group of eight tourists hopped on. It was obvious that they were visiting because they all had their one day pass. They were couples and older people perhaps in their sixties and 70’s. They occupied the middle section of the bus and wouldn’t go to the back even when there were no more seats in the middle and still empty seats at the back. They looked at the singing man, and then back at each other, some smiled , some growled and one of them began to move to the tunes but no one went to the back. Two of them stood and held on to the poles.

Nothing could top what would happen next. For this was drastic and would make us appreciate the pleasure of the man who sang his heart out to us.

The bus made another stop and a scruffy elderly man walked in , didn’t pay and sat in the vacant seat right in front of me. Suddenly , seconds after he sat, the air was filled with a rotten smell like the foul odor of a million rotten eggs. I tried to breathe but I could not inhale. I stood up sharply and practically ran to the front of the bus because my lungs were gasping for air. The singing man stopped and began to curse, “Gad dammit! O my Gad!!!!! What”. Other passengers began to move to the front as well as we proceeded to open the windows. The man looked like a destitute. He sat in a calm composure and quietly infiltrated the bus with his pungent offensive odor. Another lady who was also lucky enough to make it to the front looked at me and said, “first the music and now this terrible smell” ,I responded with a gentle laugh. The singing man got off at the next stop. He jumped out as soon as the doors opened and still continue to curse loudly from the side walk, “Gad dammit…….”