Since the dawn of time, symbols have carried the weight of human thought, guiding interpretation and meaning across generations. Some ancient forms are tangible and concrete, while others remain abstract, seemingly detached from our lived reality. Though centuries separate us from their creators, many of these symbols still resonate within the framework of everyday experience, requiring little more than reflection to reveal their essence.
It is from this continuum—drawing upon both the ancient and the modern—that I seek to craft visualizations, inviting them to be understood through the lens of our own time.
The Real Battle Is Within You
As I sit down to write, battles and fires are raging across America's cities and in me.
Jesus said that the hearts of many would grow cold in the last days because evil would become rampant and people would say "Yes" when they really mean "No", and a Lie would be considered a Truth. We appear to be in such a time and place as he described, and I, like many of you, find myself growing weary and cold, having weathered this evil generation, watching the deterioration since my birth. Coldness seems like a place of refuge in such a case, and Hate is following her lead; both are deterrents to fighting well and surviving. I want to fight well and to do more than survive; I want to thrive! So it follows that I don't want to grow Cold or fall into the dark well of Hate. It appears the first battle is spiritual, as the battleground is invisible in the Heart and Mind.
We are instructed by Christ's Apostles to ready ourselves for battle; to put on the full armor of the spirit of God; that we might stand and fight the Good Fight in the evil day. Let that day and hour not be like a thief in the night; it appears night has come, this is not the day or hour to hide among the cliffs. Ready yourself if you haven't, begin in your heart and mind; humble yourself before the Lord, seek His face, turn from wickedness, pray for you, and then for our land.
Your prayers are needed and can turn this madness around; hate will only fan the flames. I plan to love, not hate; think, not react.
For me, abandoned places are not sites of gloom, but vessels that carry the past into the present. They are mysterious and beautiful, speaking in quiet volumes to the deepest parts of my soul. This image reveals a place that once lived only in my imagination, now brought to life in yours. How marvelous that the unseen can be shared. Across the world, abandoned cathedrals are taking on new forms—transformed into hotels, flea markets, coffee shops, or swallowed by the march of time. In my fictional vision of Duke Chapel in Durham, NC, its walls crumble as the world around it changes. Some may call this morbid, but to me it is an awakening—a reminder of the fragile line between life and death, presence and absence. From these places, I have learned the brevity of life, the inevitability of its final breath, and the necessity of moving forward. I now see the past not as loss, but as a celebration of existence. For even in its passing, I lived—and I live still, to remember.
You find yourself in an abandoned train car; outside the door is outer space; your head is swirling as Rod Serling narrates your experience. “You've entered The Twilight Zone.” I took this original photo of a retired train car at Pollen Park in Raleigh, NC. My interpretation of the subject follows the train as it enters its twilight of life; outside, no longer heard are the sounds of people hustling to make the noon train, it's now replaced with the sounds of night creatures and the solar winds. The door is open, allowing light reflected off the moon to fill the car with a pale light, revealing the reds and washing out the blues. Peering out the door, she can see stars hanging in the darkness like beacons beckoning travelers to come and see. But no soul peers from the window and dreams of visiting the distant lights, for this train is fixed and will never visit the lights, for it has traveled its last track; the hiss of steam and its warm breath is no longer fed by the Fireman, and so its flame no longer licks at his shovel. Be not sad for the little engine, he traveled his world, investigated every tunnel, and felt the cool evening air brush past, cooling his hot wheels as he raced every stretch of the track and rounded every turn. He is at peace as he rests among the stars, but you, my friend, have not traveled far or long enough and must continue on your way.
When I first did this piece, I had my mind on the narcotics problem we face in America, especially the drug this piece is named after. Now, as we face a pandemic requiring people all over the world to wear a breathing mask, it takes on new meaning for me. Those who are addicted to OxyContin and the like are suffering right now as their suppliers are facing the same unseen killer the world wrestles against.
While lack of availability is a unique opportunity to come clean, it comes at a very high risk to the addicted, physically and psychologically. Having been legally addicted to OxyContin and a number of other pain meds over the years, managing my chronic pain condition, I have become personally familiar with withdrawal; the crawling of my skin and the climbing of the walls in my bathroom scared my family and me more than one night. John Lennon's song "Cold Turkey" best represents the struggle of those who go cold turkey; whatever the reason, the experience is real and frightening.
Please remember them kindly as they face their demons and cold turkey wreaks their brain and twists their bodies from the inside; they are not the enemy, they are the weak among us. Let us love and extend a hand, rather than sucking the remaining oxygen from their room.
I took this picture on a cold winter day in 2016 at Flushing Meadows Park in Corona, New York. Corona is a small town in Queens, best known for the Lemon Ice King featured at the end of the sitcom The King of Queens trailer. I grew up within walking distance of both the park and my favorite year-round snack. Having just finished the flavor of the week, I came upon a flock of seagulls by the lake. I named the main subject of this picture Jonathan because it was the first thing that came out of my mouth as I quickly knelt down, focused, and took the shot. I first read about Jonathan in the '70s while attending Halsey Junior High School P.S. 157 in Rego Park, N.Y., while in 7th grade. I remember him soaring above the clouds, ever seeking greater heights. In my mind's eye, I flew next to him, dreaming of what would come to me in life if I were as bold as Jonathan. Now, over 45 years later, I still seek greater heights in my understanding of life, God, and creation; Though I have soared higher than I had ever imagined, I have yet to find the ceiling. For our creator, our Heavenly Father is truly infinite.
“Jonathan Seagull discovered that boredom and fear and anger are the reasons that a gull’s life is so short, and with these gone from his thought, he lived a long, fine life indeed.”
"His sorrow was not solitude, it was that other gulls refused to believe the glory of flight that awaited them; they refused to open their eyes and see.”
During a visit to the NC Museum of Art in Raleigh, I found myself captivated—not by faces or landscapes—but by the expressive power of hands in the paintings. Each gesture seemed to whisper something essential: a plea, a promise, a prayer.
This video grew from that moment of quiet observation. Set to original music, it invites you to explore how hands—often overlooked—carry emotion, symbolism, and narrative weight. As you watch, ask yourself:
What emotions are conveyed through these gestures?
What ideas or symbols do they evoke?
How do they shape your interpretation of the painting as a whole?
Since the dawn of time, symbols have carried the weight of human thought, guiding interpretation and meaning across generations. Some ancient forms are tangible and concrete, while others remain abstract, seemingly detached from our lived reality. Though centuries separate us from their creators, many of these symbols still resonate within the framework of everyday experience, requiring little more than reflection to reveal their essence.
