First there were the feelers.
I never paint to conciously tell a story.
Painting to me is not a language, it is the universe where empathy rules.
So I listen to its sounds of silence and carefully set foot before foot on its keyboard of hues and superficial lovings.
Painting tells wonderful things.
Lately, after a period of rather abstract sightings, the clowinsh guy from my earliest paintings is making an obvious appearance once again.
The eye of this beholder is the half-tone of a piano's keyboard. It pops into the world rather than transforming outside light into the inner darkness of our projection rooms inside our individual and defining human skulls.
The eye of this beholder is a feeler.
Science Fiction lets Clifford Simak tell the story of THE VISITORS.
Alien Life here isn't imagined as a humanoid abstraction with uncanny sidekicks. He understands it rather as the untranslatable Other:
Life forms on the (to us) dark side of the mirror, not what we're used to perceive on its surface or would love to believe:
"The Other" is the perfectly closed monolith, known to our cineastic commonplace from key situations in 2001 (the movie).
It is simply there.
Practicing perfect stillness, equanimous to humanoid and human ideas and actions.
The eye of God is often depicted as a gigantic human eye in the sky.
A half-tone key hovering above us makes the world a giant keyboard to be played.
This eye of God is hovering above us. Not as surveillance, but as a reminder to PLAY IT.
Seen as such, the eye of God isn't entrance to an uncanny darkness in an uncertain hereafter linked to morality or competition.
It simply is.
As we could be.