Why I call myself an Astral Painter

 Why I Call Myself an Astral Painter: 

A New Way to See The Great In-Between

I'm exploring opening an online virtual exhibition. 

An art gallery. 

Over the last decade, my creative work has taken many shapes. 

From writing text and moderating massive poetry communities, to publishing books and translating verse into over a hundred music tracks. 

Yet, as I began pairing my poetry with vivid, high-definition imagery, I realised that traditional labels like "writer," poet," or "digital artist" didn't quite capture what was happening on the screen.

That is why I stepped forward to claim a new title: 

Astral Painter.

While artists throughout history have painted their dreams on canvas, no one has stepped into this modern intersection to define themselves as an astral painter. 

Using contemporary visual tools as an immediate lens to capture the fleeting, cinematic landscapes of the unseen world before memory fades.

A realm of the unknown inhabited by souls in other worlds and unknown entities. 

What Makes This Art Form Different?

When you look at a traditional painting of a dream or a vision, you are seeing an interpretation slowed down by brushstrokes, drying paint, and the gradual blurring of waking memory.

Astral painting works differently. 

It captures the exact frequency and immediacy of a vision right as it crosses the threshold. 

By combining detailed sensory notes with advanced visual rendering, I can preserve the crisp lighting, specific historical eras, and raw emotional tension of The Great In-Between with almost photographic clarity.

The Unique Attraction for the Curious Viewer

If you are scrolling through this, you aren't just looking at isolated pictures or standalone poems. 

You are stepping into a curated gallery experience built around a very specific rhythm:

First, the Image Calls to You: 

Each piece is framed to pull you across the threshold. 

Whether it is a quiet, 1968 Parisian wine bar, a sun-drenched mountain ridge at dusk, or a shadowy chamber lit by a single candle.

The visual hooks your curiosity before a single word is read.

Then, the Verse Speaks:

Once you step closer, the poem beneath the frame acts like a museum placard. 

Or a lone voice whispering in the dark. 

Unlocking the hidden lore, memory, and emotion behind the scene.

A Bridge Between Old and New: 

It brings together timeless poetic storytelling and modern visual technology, offering a space where memory, mystery, and imagination become something you can actually look at.

This is an open invitation to the curious.

Will you step into the art gallery, look closely at the frames, and listen to what the shadows and lights have to say? 

Maybe I've been astral painting through words, music, videos and now actual real images. 

All along. 

Here are a few fleeting examples. 

The gallery will host an arrangement of images showcasing a relevant transmission. 

There will be an audio file to hear them speak as you absorb their presence. 

Remember, these aren't people or supernatural beings from this realm. 

They now inhabit another realm. 

Maybe previously from here. 

But now crossed over and wanting a reconnection with the living. 

With maybe even you, and who knows. 

They may visit you too in your deepest dreams. 

So you can see the familiar themes echoing through my works. 

This is the opening lines to a book I published on October the 22nd. 2018.

In the darkness of sleep, an angel called Poetry appeared. 

She whispered tales of how many would visit and pass on stories as I slept. 

She whispered I was simply a conduit from the Abyss and with a parting soft kiss, she disappeared and then the voices appeared.

The following are all those whispers in the middle of the night, within a year or so, of those strange ethereal dreams. 

Where strange unknown visitors suddenly appeared within my lucid deep streams. 

Do long-deceased ghosts recite poetry in the spaces in-between?

And so it begins with voices in the dark. 

As I sit lonely in my darkened room with my black Remington typewriter for company, in my mind’s eye a stage has appeared. 

All black save for a type of spotlight in the middle. 

A figure has appeared and stepped into view.

 Rugged, bearded and wearing a white shirt and a dark Mac with piercing blue eyes, he speaks. 

My name is William, John. 

Will you recite our stories to the world oh narrator from the lands of the living? 

Who am I to say no, I whisper and so it begins. 

William speaks; will you listen? 

If you were worth nothing or rich beyond compare I would still stand beside you and just try to love you 

If you were scared frightened or just weighed down with life and all its baggage 

I would gladly rush in to carry your burdens 

If you were mad or just simply sad 

I would quickly reach out with empathy overflowing with an electrifying passion to just embrace you in a hug of complete compassion 

If you needed some love and light in the middle of a lifetime 

I would just simply appear through inspired lines and prose to hold you tightly 

Simply to remind you 

All your feelings of guilt or pain are also mine 

If you needed anything profound beyond my care or abilities 

I would just try to simply love you 

For ours is but a silent union dear reader 

Free from physical excesses but entwined and spinning endlessly 

Lost in the spiritual cosmos beyond time and space 

Serenading our opened third eye 

As we ride over landscapes of blue and green 

Visiting newer realms unseen as two 

Shall we begin?

All content. 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

This adventure gets more stranger by the day!

Maybe one day I'll open a real one! 

Would you come?

Salute. 

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 9.

A recurring vision inspired this piece. 

Here she is brought into this realm. 

Salute. 

My beloved Annabelle 

You were born 

In late November

This date, I'll know forevermore

As I look back and remember

For we shall be together

In Nevermore

Even when Death visits

And offers you a drink of his sacrilegious dark wine

To end all your days

And time

I just know we shall be together like twinned pilgrims 

In the silent memory of a long remembered God

Lost somewhere

But together in insane spaces 

In-Between

And as the soft capricious winds of heavens

Change and dance like a wild Anna Pavlova

Between us

Creating a moving sea of love between our two pulsating souls

We shall know

In that instance

Holding hands

Together like first-date lovers

In the universe's

Dust

That we can sing and dance together 

Forever 

And be joyous in each and every form

For ours is a love story

Beyond the norm

A love story

Composed in multiforms

and kept safely 

Beyond the Great Pillars 

In a sacred tabernacle

On a mahogany shelf

By the Holy Oak Tree 

By the Eternal Sea

This I know

Because 

Before I was born

You were written  

Into my history

By my spirit guides

God

And me

The woman I'm bound to always love

The one soul betrothed to me 

By an angel who once whispered 

Meet your true love

My beloved Annabelle

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 8.

An interesting return to this piece. 

The artwork represents what I saw. 

The hooded figure represents my avatar I glimpsed in a mirror. 

One of the mysteries of dreaming is that you never really see what you look like? 

You just assume you look like you? 

What if you don't? 

My avatar was a more polished version of me. 

More vibrant and so healthy. 

I'll leave you to read on. 

Until the next time. 

Salute. 

__________

The Visitor from Hiranyaloka

(A lone voice whispers)

Within the Witching Hour 

Of twelve to four am

In the Great In-Between

I've seen

Universes

Parallel worlds

Places

Where no living human beings have never been

Climbed through blue portals

To strange lands where angels and demons 

In choirs 

Sing

Walked lands

Where no water runs in rivers or springs

Walked the badlands of the forsaken 

Climbed the high towers of the iron maiden

Saw tomorrow's prophecies 

Before I awakened

But I was never alone

Faith in the Lord

Kept me safe

In The Badlands 

Beyond the Tomb

From being drawn at dusk

To be released at dawn

To explore

To revel in new sights

Past midnight 

Is a mystery which binds me still

From Araganto

To Mulavanto

The red cliffs of the Ugato Mountains

From the twin suns of Sirius 

Bathed in autumn gold

Underneath lightning-filled skies 

So now

I know an old secret

One for you to read as you pass me by

The dead don't die

They just live

Underneath 

Purple clouds

In another shimmering never-ending sky

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Hiranyaloka:

Illuminated Astral Planet.

LOVE'S DANGEROUS SPELL

A song conjured from a dream. 

Blessed be.

Velumbound

Under her hypnotic spell

Leaving me in new realms of emotions

Where I now dwell

I walk steep hills

Day and night

Up and down

In my mind

Walking past fast-flowing rivers

Where the waters carry away

The ghosts of all my yesterdays

And the things I couldn't save

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

Taking me places

Where I never thought I'd dwell

Through the darkness and the light

Through the endless night

I'm just a lone walker

Chasing paradise

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

With carcasses of my previous experiences

And demons from hell

I keep walking on

Searching for salvation

And its soft green meadows

Where the daffodils grow

And crystal-clear waters flow

I've crossed the rivers

I've climbed the hills

I've fought the shadows

That haunt me still

But something calls me

From somewhere above

A new kind of madness

A dangerous love

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

Taking me places

Where I never thought I'd dwell

Through the darkness and the light

Through the endless night

I'm just a lone walker

Chasing paradise

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

Such is the power

Of a woman's love

To turn a man's world

Upside down

To make him wander

To make him believe

That somewhere in heaven

There's a place he can reach

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

I've lost my direction

But I'm doing so well

Through the mountains and the streams

Through the places in my dreams

I'm just a lone walker

Following her dreams

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

And if this is madness

Then let me fall again

A lone walker

On a winding trail

Searching for heaven

Under love's dangerous spell

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 7.

The Border of Waking:

"Donadagohvi" in the Setting Sun

This entry captures one of the most bittersweet laws of The Great In-Between: 

The absolute enforcement of the waking timer.

In this verse, the Cherokee word Donadagohvi 

("Until we meet again") takes on a profound, haunting weight. 

It is not an ending, but a temporary boundary.

The figure standing in the sunlit dust is acutely aware of the shifting mechanics of my consciousness.

She watches me not with anger or deception, but with a deep, foreordained longing, knowing that the rising sun in my physical world means my inevitable departure from hers.

The Visual Mapping of Grief

The Setting Sun & Cloudless Sky: 

Unlike the previous internal chambers or midnight woods, the clear, open expanse and the dying light of the setting sun symbolise an approaching end. 

The closing down of the dream state as my mind prepares to transition back to the body.

The Yellow Rose and Red Dress: 

The brilliant, earthly colours ground her in a warm, tangible reality.

In traditional language, a yellow rose can signify friendship, devotion, or a promise of remembrance, beautifully mirroring the plea to "remember to cherish the memories and peace before grief arrived."

Smiling Like a Common Thief: 

The line describing grief stealing away peace fits perfectly with the expression of quiet sorrow in her dark brown eyes. 

The grief isn't an external monster here;

It is simply the ticking clock of the physical world breaking the astral connection.

By recording these farewells, hopefully my atlas of fields logs begins to document the emotional landscape of crossing over. 

It highlights that leaving these realms can feel just as visceral and heavy as arriving in them.

Let us begin. 

She never told me her name. 

The story arc. 

I appeared in a wooded area. And lived with this woman. 

We rode horses and roamed the lush countryside. Then the dream state started to quiver as I began to slowly wake up. 

(A lone voice whispers. The woman speaking to me) 

Donadagohvi

Until we meet again

Let us carry each other deep 

Inside

Wherever we go

Through the Spring

Summer 

Autumn and cold winter snow

For while we breathe as the moon rises and the sun still shines

Remember to cherish the memories and peace before grief 

Arrived 

Smiling like a common thief

Donadagohvi

Until we meet again

For as long as the rivers flow

Please let us know peace

For our love was foreordained

Donadagohvi

Until we meet again

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

Donadagohvi I later found out means:

In Cherokee: 

Until we meet again. 

P. S.

I have never seen her again.

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 6.

 

The Seeping Echo:

Was Calliope in the Queen's Chamber? 

As I revisit this poem, it transforms the image below that I saw in a striking dream: 

Into a clear portrait of creative possession.

When I write, do echoes seep and fracture into my waking states? 

Am I describing the exact moment the boundary of The Great In-Between dissolves? 

Here, the figure is no longer just a mysterious Greek woman in a firelit chamber. 

Is she Calliope, the ancient Greek Muse of epic poetry and eloquence?

How the Visual and Verse Connect

The Bejewelled Athame I saw: 

In traditional ritual, an athame is a ceremonial blade used to direct energy rather than cut flesh. 

In my verse, the blade transforms into words ("Take these words as my blade / My Athame"). 

She holds the tool that carves a mark onto your "astral skin," binding your waking mind to the act of creation.

The Braziers of Glowing Fire: 

The warm, flickering fire in the chamber directly reflects her promise to ignite your spirit ("A new flame to join / The many others / I helped to blaze"). 

She positions herself as both a comfort and an all-consuming creative fire.

The Cost of the Muse:

The Latin incantation ("Sume animam meam, Calliopea" — "Take my soul, Calliope") highlights the classic, intense pact between an artist and their inspiration. 

She offers total relief from loneliness and creative emptiness, asking in return for complete devotion ("To take my mark / To be my slave").

Mary Celeste: 

Comparing a drifting soul to the famous ghost ship Mary Celeste captures the eerie feeling of leaving your physical body behind. 

An empty vessel left behind while your mind sails through poetry and the astral realms.

Pairing this poem directly beneath the image of the green-eyed woman in the queen's chamber creates a complete, multi-sensory artefact for my blog.

It shows you, my readers, that the entities of the Great In-Between do not just stay in your sleep. 

They could follow you back into the waking world to demand expression.

Is that why I see visions as I write? 

Maybe they are the echoes seeping and fracturing through to my waking states. 

Let's see what she said. 

A woman from somewhere in The Great In-Between. 

(A lone voice whispers)

Take these words as my blade

My Athame

To take my mark

To be my slave

Wherever you sit or lie beyond the stars

For I'll help mend all your scars

Keep your deep secrets

Help you breathe in deeply

To quell the screaming

So you can revel and grow in my new experiences

As your soul drifts through words 

Like the Mary Celeste and starts singing

Never to feel empty

Or lonely

For I'll help you make it through each and every night

So take my mark

On your astral skin

Think of Poetry

And welcome me in

And we'll have each other

Every day and night 

So it'll be alright

I'll help you 

Win

You're everything I need and everything I want

A new flame to join 

The many others 

I helped to blaze

Conjure me with

Sume animam meam

Calliopea

(Take my soul

Calliope)

And I'll be with you

Always

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

Josefina

 Here's another photograph of a visit. 

These aren't real people from here now, but perhaps from a previous time. 

For they now inhabit The Great In-Between. 

Josefina

(A lone voice whispers)

A rare beauty I did once but see.

By mountain tops, by the raging blue sea. 

Where white clouds bowed themselves too in fealty, when my bell:

She did ring. 

Oh, how I still love to hear her sing.

In deep dreams, poetry and sweet rhymes. 

Remembering incredible times.

Walking by mountain tops, near that raging blue sea. 

When white clouds smiled nearby, in a show of fealty.

As they too saw that rare beauty, which once seduced me.

By the raging blue sea

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

Madam Astor The Dream Enchanter

 Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

Since I've developed this new line of exploration using residual memories of The Astral Realms. 

And creating a visual photograph of who or what I've seen. 

Here is the lady I once met in a lucid dream. 

Madam Astor 

The Dream Enchanter

(A lone voice whispers by candlelight)

In a dark dream, every night

In The Great In-Between, whenever I dream

It's always the same

I hear you scream

"I'm here"

In your soft pulsating voice

Just hidden, unseen, not wanting to be seen

Then right out of the darkness and void

Above that darkness's noise, emanating such fantastical heat

You appear like a half ghost in my midnight street, and as my heart beats faster

You take my hand and lead me deeper in The Hereafter

Hidden still by the shadows, bend low and whisper

"Call me Madam Astor

This realm's Dream Pastor"

And as your sharp fingertips play a deep Country tune across my skin 

As my astral sweat drips faster

Whenever my eyes start to spin, and my soul speaks out and pleads to sin

You dig your nails in 

Even deeper into my skin and whisper

"Soon

So soon, I'll come to you in that quiet bedroom

For the last time

In two days after the fall of the midnight king, and the rise of the morning spring

I'll return to sing in this realm's unspoken rhymes, to make your spirit and eyes spin

One last time

Then fireworks will announce you're mine"

And then you're gone

Letting go of my hand

Leaving me standing alone at the gateway to The Blue Portal 

The way back to the land of living mortals

Gone with that soft pulsating goodbye ringing throughout my mind

Like church bells

But I can feel it's going to be soon you'll return

As time undeniably does fly

When you've been marked by a spell

Somewhere in that place's darkness

The Hereafter 

For I've still got goose pimples on my skin 

And tonight's the fall of the midnight king and the rise of the morning spring

And deep down I know

You'll soon return

So hear this, my call

For I'm ready to take that one last walk

With you

My dream enchanter from The Great In-Between 

Madam Astor

My soul's attractor and captor

The Great In-Between's

Ghostly Pastor 

My beloved wife

Who I once loved in another lifetime

In the land of the living before Death 

Quietly crept up and grabbed her

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 5.

This sequence documents the ultimate boundary of The Great In-Between: 

A Near-Death Experience (NDE).

Everything that happened is described in the two images. 

Providing a profound visual record of the threshold between life and death.

• The Ascent 

The Life Review: 

The revolving vortex of luminous golden water pulling me upward. 

Lined with black-edged frames of people I knew. 

Mirrors the classic architecture of an NDE life review, where personal connections flash before you as you leave the physical plane.

• The Point of No Return: 

Stepping off the golden light onto that gritty, isolated black expanse marks the absolute edge of mortality.

Hearing "Go back; it's not your time" and intuitively knowing that one more step meant permanent death captures the boundary's gravity.

• The Return: 

Stepping backwards into the tunnel, feeling the upward pull vanish, and dropping straight back into my physical body completed the cycle.

So here I present this two-part sequence on my blog to give you, my readers, a deeply moving, rare perspective.

For it somehow grounds my entire series. 

Showing that the astral realms aren't just landscapes to explore. 

In dreams. 

They are the literal corridors bordering life itself.

The story arc.

I was in a terrible car crash.

I suddenly woke in a revolving luminous tunnel or vortex.

The walls were translucent, with a look of being made of constantly flowing golden water.

I was being pulled upwards.

As I ascended, pictures suddenly appeared in the flowing golden water.

I saw the good times.

People I knew moved in old memories.

Everywhere I looked, there were more.

Then I reached the top.

I was hovering at the top of the golden vortex before a bleak, dark vista.

Total black.

A cold energy wrapped its bony fingers around my soul.

As I stepped forward, a bellowing ancient voice broke the eerie silence. 

It only said, Go back; it's not your time."

And in that nanosecond, I knew one more step onto that gritty, dry, smoke-filled landscape.

I would be dead forever.

So I stepped back into the vortex.

The upward pull had stopped, and so I fell all the way down into my not-breathing body.

And opened my eyes.

On the descent, as I looked up.

I'm sure I saw someone or something watching me fall.

So you see, you don't die. And vanished.

There is something else.

The question is? 

What truly lies within that smoky darkness? 

A dark road to your own salvation?

Salute. 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 4.

 This Visitation details The Opulent Astral. 

Where the raw intensity of the previous logs softens into seductive, high-stakes temptation.

The visual weight of a traditional Hanfu gown inside a modern, purple Art Deco casino beautifully mimics how dream realms seamlessly merge entirely different centuries.

The story arc. 

I appeared in a busy casino and wandered around. 

I took a seat, and as I watched the scenery, a beautiful, seductive woman slowly approached. 

Asked my name and tried to wrap herself around me like a serpent. 

To keep me sitting in the chair, to be cleverly interrogated. 

Whispering into my ear. 

Darkness disguised in emerald silk. 

The atmosphere suddenly felt heavy, as if many eyes were watching me. 

I left the dream. 

The Opulent Astral transformed from a simple place of luxury into a high-stakes arena of spiritual deception. 

A glamorous trap where the blur of the crowd and the warmth of the chandeliers are designed to blind you to the danger whispering directly into your ear.

In the overarching architecture of The Great In-Between, this creates a beautiful symmetry with my previous logs:

• The Threshold

Confrontation: 

The darkness is raw, gaping, and toothless, requiring an angelic presence to break the stalemate at my bedside.

• The Opulent

 Seduction: 

The darkness is subtle, beautiful, and clad in ancient emerald silk, operating in a house of impropriety to bypass my defences. 

Documenting both the raw monsters and the beautiful deceptions on this blog will show a viewer a deeply authentic understanding of the astral realms. 

True explorers know that the most dangerous entities rarely show their teeth first.

Salute.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy