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Thirty-three years ago, my father was shot in the head while standing beside me. I was a boy. I said nothing. I buried the moment so deeply it almost disappeared—until now.
Obsidian Silence emerged during six weeks of Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) therapy, when that long-held trauma surfaced fully, finally. These paintings are the residue of what I felt, what I couldn’t say, and what I had to face to return to myself.
Black, in this work, is not emptiness. It is a presence. A space of memory, reckoning, and breath. The silence that held my grief became the ground I painted on—layered, ruptured, exposed.
Guided by the energy of obsidian—a stone of protection, truth, and deep transformation—I surrendered control and let the work speak first.
This is not a series about resolution. It is about what remains when language dissolves, and all that’s left is texture, gesture, and the silence that knows you.
SALAZAR
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