For several years, I've had recurring dreams where horses murder me. Not in horse ways. In human ways: poisonings, stabbings, being buried alive. The horses are always deliberate. Methodical. Dressed for the occasion.
Then I read Jung. It turns out that recurring dream figures who threaten the dreamer are symbols of transformation. The unconscious sends what you need to become to kill off who you've been. My horses aren't trying to end me. They're trying to change me.

For 15 years, they have stuck with me as psychopomps of change and progress, literal symbols of movement and speed. After all the growth, all the fear, the pain, the laughs, the tears, it feels only fitting to honor them by bringing them to life through pigment and canvas.

Murder Horses is a series of 22 oil paintings, one per documented dream. Each piece captures a specific horse, a specific method, a specific mood. The first completed painting, "The Gentleman," shows a horse in cityscape at night with a knife. How he wields it is anyone's guess but make no mistake he intends to use it! His eyes hold everything from wildness, madness, and incredulity at his own intentions.

The series is absurd, sincere, and deeply personal. I've performed spoken word companion pieces at open mics. I'm pursuing local gallery exhibitions. And yes, the paintings are funny...right up until they aren't.
This grant would let me stop splitting my focus between survival work and this series, and just paint the horses.