Categories
blog Personal

New Jersey Roots


I recently joined the parish of St. Casimir in the Ironbound district of Newark, New Jersey. My grandfather and namesake was a Polish immigrant who raised his family in this area of North Jersey. He died before I was born and only left me his name. My whole life I have felt a longing to get closer to him.

St. Casimir has services in Polish and English. My artist name, Magiczyn, means magic in Polish – it only makes sense to try to learn more Polish. The building is a beautiful cathedral with several impressive paintings and sculptures. When Mass begins, one of the paintings behind the altar lowers with an electrical roller to reveal a painting of a golden Madonna. 

I have not talked to my father, Tim Szal, for several years. He was raised in Teaneck, New Jersey, and living here is another way I can connect with him without any communication. I still practice Transcendental Meditation, which was instilled in me from a young age as the most important thing to receive support from nature and an edge over other non-meditators. 

Categories
blog Sketchbook

Virgo de Irunbidea

Virgo de Irunbidea statue drawing from sketch book – April 2022, Spain
Photo of statue
Categories
europa watercolor

Burgos Fountain Watercolor

Fountain in Front of the Burgos Cathedral – Watercolor on Watercolor Paper ( 7th of May 2022)

Categories
poetry

“Spirt Ranch”

// poem dedicated to John Milton (1608-1674)

The Tower was high,

The Beast was low,

So many cases and hexes,

Sometimes its hard to reap what you sow…

The love in my soul burns,

Yet temptations often take a turn,

A scorned falling from grace,

gotta keep riding, can’t stay in one place…

The devil was in the tower above,

I saw Aces and Magickians burning in desire,

Fighting this beef out in the street,

I had to kill something they needed to eat….

Take the cattle with the cows,

Killing them softly wondering how,

Serving them straight off my gun,

From the nightly shadows with Demons they run…..

A dagger twists in blood and ice,

curses to Sheva in another sacrifice,

These images painted upon my soul,

not ever quite in love but just an endless fold,

It was in these shadows,

I found these jems,

The strangers made lines,

The shadows twisted together with time.