When I was around 5-7 years old I lived with my father in Chihuahua, Chihuahua, Mexico. We lived in a small rural area in a small shack type house with a creek that winded around behind the house. My father would tell me the Mexican folk story of “La Lorona.” My guess, to prevent me from going out to the creek at night. Using the fear that I might get snatched up and drowned by her.

One night, I went down to the creek. On the shore about 15 or so feet from me stood this crane. Well, the corpse of a crane. A crane that had been dead quite a while. One of the craziest things about it was that it was static standing up on one leg. It had parts of bone exposed, dried flesh and feathers barely hanging on to its body. It also had a fishhook stuck in its eye socket.

This drawing is called the doorway, because I believe in that moment I experienced real deep darkness. It had enveloped me and I was surrounded by this heavy uneasiness. I did not run away. I stood my ground and felt everything. Slowly the tension in the air had turned to a melancholy. I felt this comfort and saw beauty in the crane.

This moment defined my life from that time forward. I started to see the beauty in all things, dark, dead or not.