As I was painting it, I wondered how art historians could possibly claim to know what the artist 'truly meant' while creating a work.
On the contrary, I felt an immense sense of wonder as to why this particular image, and why right now, was manifesting through me. What does it mean, if only to myself?
I recalled the legend of Ragnarök, where a single pair of humans survives the collapse of the world and the demise of all the principal gods. I also thought of the Master and Margarita, gazing out over a burning Moscow in the company of Woland and his retinue. Yet where I belong in all of this remains an open question.
