Their eyes meet beneath the ceiba tree.
A hush moves through the roots and rises towards the moon.
The night is holding its breath.
Jaguar Night began with the ceiba tree.
Its roots reach downward into a patterned ground inspired by the Amazon, while its luminous crown rises against the darkness towards a full moon.
Then came the jaguars.
One stands at the foot of the tree, carrying the familiar markings of the jaguar. The other, black and almost absorbed into the night, rests above in the branches.
They look at one another.
I was drawn to the jaguar through its presence in Maya thought: an animal associated with power, darkness, transformation and the ability to move between realms. Those associations gradually found their way into the painting. But what began to matter most was the encounter itself:
The spotted jaguar below, the black jaguar above.
Light and darkness.
Earth and moon.
Two beings separated by only a few meters, yet somehow appearing to occupy different worlds.
And then, for an instant, their eyes meet.
I like to imagine that neither is surprised.
Perhaps they recognize one another.
Or perhaps the ceiba remembers them both.
Fragments from the studio:
