I am presenting Space Sakura to you. Many of you liked my Disco Snail, so I thought that I'll show you my other snails. To tell you the truth, I painted a whole saga of snails. When Freud told me why, I gasped.

https://i.imgsafe.org/0c9acafea4.jpg

I have no idea where the snails came from, but I started to paint them in 2010, shortly after my arrival to Canada. I was living with the coolest Kiwi guy ever – James. If you don't know who Kiwis are, ask Ozzies, they'll tell you. Cause Kiwi's are the only peeps out there who outdo Ozzies in laidbackdness!


 
We met at a construction site in Vancouver West End, where we both worked as laborers (AKA the lowest paid Joes in the business). I got hired on spot, when I answered the question “What can you do man?” with a huge smile; “Nuffin boss but I learn fast”.
James was an architect, and I worked as Finance manager for top 100 corporation in the world. We both enjoyed a white collar life of well paid professionals. Before coming to Canada I mean. In Canada, I became nobody the moment I landed, same as James. 
So while we were digging wholes in the dirty basement, knees deep in mud, with no daylight or fresh air, we were laughing our asses off. We enjoyed the temporary twist of fate- that we were the guys with highest professional qualification and experience from the whole bunch of helmeted guys (by faaaaaar), including the site manager, who could only dream about Architecture degree, but in this micro-cosmos and space-time continuum, we happened to be the lowest paid little slaves that all others used to do the dirtiest jobs. 

https://i.imgsafe.org/0d3c95a53d.jpg
*Leave snail. I guess this was inspired by my new born love for Canada.*




And we LOVED IT! We invented whole set of games to keep us amused and intellectually engaged. We also filmed it all with my pocket camera. The moment when our drunk foreman was looking for us, holding our breath while filming his outburst through a crack between two plywoods. Or interviewing random people passing by, on whatever subject crossed our minds, including the pile of sand we were meant to haul in. We should have gotten fired countless times, and eventually we both did of course, due to “company cutting”. Until that happened though, we lived our laboring days as if they were the last days of our life. With lightness and reverence!

https://i.imgsafe.org/0d2ef4c718.jpg
*Fireball snail. Oh yeah, I warned ya!:)*

And honestly, I still think we worked harder than the predominant Punjabi bunch, who had mobile phones taped to their ear hidden in the helmet, and spent the whole shifts putting in 3 screws while telling the fable of promised land on an 8 hours skype call with India. I have huge respect for people who can talk uninterrupted, even while eating, wagging their heads all along, for so long. Seems like a solid miracle to me.

https://i.imgsafe.org/0cbca197e2.jpg
*As you can see, the original version had no Sakura in it. Not only the painting, I looked different too (more meaty:)...*

Sometimes we went straight from party to work. James was a pro at looking serious while inside he was bursting with cosmic laughter, tipsy as Irish backpacker in La Paz. He was also a pro at getting a number of whatever girl in the street I pointed at (and I pointed at the hardest most stuck-up looking high heel targets!). They actually texted him like crazy, but he never answered. He was that kind of guy- only up for the thrill of the game, not the reward. He couldn't get bothered by drama. I learned tons from this Auckland homie! We used to buy the cheap cider in plastic bottles on our lunch break (and after work), staying true to our mission of keeping our spirits high, basking in the glory of uncertainty of our destiny in this New Land.

When I wasn't out with James, trying to initiate an improvised rave party in an internet coffee shop, I was painting snails. That was before I had my studio, and before I even thought of becoming pro artist.  I was painting in the same room that I was sleeping in, intoxicated by turpentine vapors. But I enjoyed my night shifts by the easel a lot. Sure, I didn't get much sleep those days, but I produced some pretty unconventional artwork that later on sold to the last piece (Space Sakura all the way to Germany!). Surprisingly, most of my snail paintings buyers were male. Now, I have to admit that around 70% of my clients are female. I wondered why.

https://i.imgsafe.org/0cbdc26dd1.jpg


And then somebody told me to look up the Freudian meaning of snail. You know, the dirty subconscious story. And I did. And to my surprise (not really), it was the story of vagina. It makes sense, thinking about it, the cavity and other attributes of a snail...no need to elaborate, but the city rats who never held a snail on naked skin are missing out! Oh blessed be the vastness of the submerged part of iceberg called subconscious. 

**Hmm, it's hard to deny actually. And no disrespect to ladies - this is science of one of the “sickest” of them all- Freud. You, mesdames and mademoiselles- you hold the key to un-shit the Earth from huge pile of male bullshit next to which Mt.Everest looks like a rabbit poo. Om Shanti!**

https://i.imgsafe.org/0cc31b047a.jpg
*Final version. Looking different, and so am I :)*

To whatever extent Freud's legacy bears truth, he was right in my case. Back in my “snail” times I did battle with strong physical desires for opposite sex, and as soon as that faded in the arising mindfulness practice, so did my snail painting become part an evolutionary step, that I can't go back to.

I'm happy with Buddha now, but I don't frown at snails. I have deep reverence and gratitude for every step on my journey. Judgment is the wasteland of fools, the cemetery of meaningless mind junk.

Long live Punjab, long live the Snails, long live Freud's ideas!

Thank you for reading and for following me,

Much Love & Humor on your journeys!

Jan @jankasparec

https://steemit.com/art/@jankasparec/why-the-heck-do-i-paint-buddha

*Rewind 6 years back. Our Living room/Studio/Bedroom. Picture taken by James in between creative/beer tasting session. Good old times! I miss you homie! Happinness is not about how much you have but how you feel!*
https://i.imgsafe.org/0d5cfb5c23.jpg