The Liminal Chorus

Medium: Watercolor on Paper

Date: 1975, 2025

The Liminal Chorus

Symbolic Elements and Visual Design
This piece is an exploration of liminality—that threshold between worlds where nothing is fixed, yet everything pulses with potential. At first glance, the imagery may appear chaotic, but it reflects a deliberate interweaving of contrasting forces—playful and grotesque, organic and celestial. Faces emerge from both the anthropomorphic and the otherworldly, inviting us to question the boundaries of self and nature.

Leonardo da Vinci once told his students, “Look! There are faces and figures everywhere. Look in the mud! What do you see?” This resonates deeply with my process, where the act of discovery becomes a dance between imagination and observation.

The soft watercolors lend a dreamlike fluidity to the scene, emphasizing the interconnectedness of these forms. The caterpillar, spider, and serpentine shapes suggest transformation and fragility, while the sun and ghostly figures evoke omnipresence and ambiguity. The faces embedded in various elements challenge the viewer to find meaning within the absurdity. Are they playful spirits or harbingers of change? The diagonal grasses cut through the composition, acting as fragile bridges between realms—growth piercing through uncertainty.

In our previous blog, I quoted Paul Klee: “A line is a dot that went for a walk.” Carl Jung also said, “Follow the fragment, idea, or line, as far as it will take you.” Similarly, Disneyland’s Epcot Center celebrates creativity with its “Imagination” pavilion, where a small dragon named Figment leads visitors on a whimsical journey. These sentiments fuel my creative process. I keep drawing until the uncertainty satisfies a need I have inside, and the form feels right to me.

Techniques
I worked primarily in ink and watercolor, balancing fine, deliberate linework with loose, almost childlike washes of color. These delicate lines were drawn back in 1975, using penpoints that were available to me at the time. It wasn't until 2025 that I finally added color.

When I created this piece, I did what I usually do: I sat quietly and observed the paper. I often use Arches 140 lb. cold press rough paper, where the textured surface reveals tiny lines. I follow these lines, sometimes quickly but more often slowly, across days or even months. Every line must fit perfectly in place.

The five years leading up to this image were brimming with creativity. I have published six books with Holt, Rinehart, and Winston; one with Bomar; and contributed to Western (Golden Books), with about 350 illustrations to my name. In 1975, I was seeking a publisher for my masterpiece, Head like a Bear—Wings like an Eagle. This book opened countless doors. Beatrice de Schenk de Regniers, a renowned editor, described it as “astounding,” and it earned praise on WNBC and in The New York Times. It filled my mind with possibilities then, as it still does now. Today, I have six new books available on Amazon, a collaboration with Jesus Salvacion, whose digital illustration and design bring fresh life to my ideas.

Now, with decades of experience behind me, I could approach this piece with the sensitivity and confidence to bring out the nuances of the forms with soft, pastel hues.

The pastel palette creates an inviting atmosphere that contrasts with the bizarre, surreal forms. I intentionally left some areas sparsely detailed to evoke emptiness, allowing space for the viewer’s imagination to flow into the gaps. The overlapping elements create a slight disorientation, further reinforcing the liminality of the scene.

Emotional Impact
The artwork oscillates between whimsy and unease. The smiling faces feel mischievous, while the elongated tongues, staring eyes, and insect-like limbs hint at something uncanny. It reflects that moment of hesitation before stepping into the unknown mix of curiosity, fear, and exhilaration. The work invites viewers to embrace the discomfort of ambiguity and see it not as a threat but as an invitation to grow.

Life Lesson
This piece reminds us that liminal spaces—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual—are often uncomfortable, yet they are also the places where transformation begins. When we lean into the uncertain, we give ourselves permission to evolve, to shed old skins, and become something new.

As Wassily Kandinsky said, “There is no must in art because art is free.” and in the same way, life often flourishes in freedom when we stop clinging to certainties. What do you see in the liminal spaces?