The Mage of Muse Hill:
The Magical World of Oliver Hunter
(Continued)

I paint a picture so that I can see what I'm painting; it's a paradoxical notion, but it makes sense. Here's where we delve into the mystery of change, the reflection and the reflected, the magician who transmutes matter and precepts into visions. I select my tools carefully. Poetry is read like an invocation, employing the creative imagination to call up or create the magical reality within the poem itself; it is real and true as it is mused upon or spoken, a lasting pebble, active when we hold it and touch it. So too is a painting. We look, and we look at our reflection. Even when we take our eyes away, something remains within us, a conversation, a reflection, magic. So when I paint a figure, or decide upon a colour, or an aesthetic, or a vision, or a subject, or a setting, it is to set a scene in which the mind can wander and look for things, where the artist and the viewer can see things that they did not realize were put there by them, reflections of something outside themselves.

—Oliver Hunter

A sequence of pictures with poems and musings:

Hohzo

Placenames

Rain Medicine

Two

Crepuscular Lullaby

The Nightmage

Mananan

Tiempo y Marea

Light by the River

Winter Song

The Traveler

Copyright information
The images and text on these pages are © 2003—2005 by Oliver Hunter and may not be reproduced in any form without his express written permission.