Maura Holden

"In a dense phosphorescent fog, I have been searching for things which can never be found: the journals of Adam and Eve; a photographic record of the cities of the interior; a map charting the soul’s disasters and renewals; the keys to locked dimensions; the point at the centre of everything ..."

"My paintings are a residue of this effort. But they are only shells, fossil imprints around the things I truly meant to give existence to – those lost moments when my identity fell to the ground like a torn dress, and I moved through non-human spheres with X-ray vision and a compound mind, seeing and being all of those impossible things."

"To be honest, Jon, I don't actually have any spiritual beliefs… I think of beliefs as convictions about things that one has never directly perceived. For me this is, at best, a guessing game.

I have lots of "spiritual" experiences, though — if apocalyptic and heavenly visions; states of blissful beatitude; universal love and compassion; and the acute perception that creation is one, world without end… qualify as such. I've been tempted to draw conclusions and form beliefs from these experiences — the human mind naturally jumps to conclusions — but my path doesn't involve creating a system of beliefs (a religion). If I have any attitude towards the formulation of beliefs and religions, it is that I personally prefer to avoid all forms of religious crystallization.

In my art I'm recording parts of my journeys in the non-material worlds. Between 1999and 2004 I made pictures of apocalyptic/transcendent realms. More recently I've begun a transformational heaven/garden/love phase, with passages suggesting that wonderful experience, the acute perception that creation is all one, world without end."

There's anInterview with Maura here: at the beinArt Forums

There is a fine essay by her entitled Tsunami here at beinArt: Tsunami

In The Eyes of the Gods
To Louis Aragon

A little before midnight down by the docks
If a disheveled woman follows you don't pay any
attention.
It's the azure. You don't have to be afraid of the azure.
There'll be a large blonde vase in a tree.
The bell towers of the town with blended colours
Will be your reference point. Take your time,
Remember. The brown geyser hurling fern shoots into the
sky.
Salutes you."
The letter sealed with a fish's three corners
Was now passing by in the light of the suburbs
Like an animal tamer's sign.
All the same,
The beautiful woman, the victim, the one known
In the neighbourhood as the little reseda pyramid
Unstitched just for herself a cloud like
A sachet of pity.
Later the white armour
Which used to take care of household and other chores
Taking it easy now more than ever.
The child with the seashell, the one supposed to be...
But shh.
A brazier was already baring
Its breast to a delightful cloak-
And-dagger story.
On the bridge, at the sometime.
Like so the cat headed dew rocked back and forth.
Night, - and their illusions would be lost.

Here are the white Fathers coming back from vespers
With the immense key hanging above them.
Here are the gray heralds; finally here's her letter
Or her lip: my heart is a cuckoo for God.

But by the time she speaks, nothing's left except a wall
Flapping inside a tomb like an unbleached sail.
Eternity searches for a wristwatch
A little before midnight down by the docks.

Survival Unit - The Hall of Truth