The Invocation of Magic

Miró said, “Painting is the invocation of magic.” I believe it because I’ve felt it. Magic isn’t something you add to a canvas—it’s something you enter. A space that opens only when you’re quiet enough to step inside. That’s why I choose solitude. Reverence for a greater cause. This is the invocation, and once you’re there, it’s a wonderful place to be.

When I paint, it must have rhythm, feel, spirit. It must cross the line from object to being—become a living soul with a heart. Light and darkness are not enemies; darkness gives light its depth, and light gives darkness its meaning. A dear friend once said to me, “The difference between a masterpiece and a painting is one stroke.” He was right.

The same is true in music—especially in jazz, where freedom is earned, not accidental. Listen to Cecil Taylor with the Orchestra of Two Continents live in Warsaw Poland https://www.andremartinezmusic.com/. It isn’t chaos. It’s precision without restraint. A structure so internalized. Not one note, not one beat, is out of place from start to finish.

As his drummer, I had to be in the zone from the first stroke to the last,.. knowing when to play, when to change, when to drop out, when to swing, when to add color, when to lift the band, and when to disappear. That same awareness lives in painting. Knowing when to act and when to let the work breathe. When to assert yourself—and when to blend in.

That’s the magic I live for in everything I do. You either enter that space, or you don’t. And once the magic is gone, no amount of effort can force it back. You may spend a lifetime searching for it again. When it moves on, you must move too carrying the wonder with you, channeling it into something new.

So, I live.
And I wonder.
And I wonder.
And I wonder.