Cataclysm
A fascination with the similarities between Salvador Dali’s erotic drawings of Millet’s gleaners, the simple forms of Edvard Munch, the kneeling Virgin, saints and patrons of Northern altars and my own drawing and watercolors of angels, volcanoes and waves culminate with this simple composition of a graceful maternal figure paid homage by two cloaked birds against a luminous aquatint sky. Here I grasped the psychological significance of my imagery, it a token of my brother and my devotion to our deeply religious mother, a paraplegic for thirty-seven years. Its title is a wordplay on “catechism,” definitely a part of my Dutch Protestant origins.
