The physical subject of a painting is to a large extent irrelevant to its abject phenomenon.
Following the act of alchemical transformation from impulse to idea to painting matter and the ripening of pigment into hardened substance, plus time; plus light (there always must be some light source), nothing is left from the original intent... except a record of passing, which then acquires a new life as a thing in itself.
Painting does not need Semiotics. In fact, it has been chocked to death by it and its implications upon culture. If successful, a visual stimulus should transgress the urge for translation into the world of meanings, it should remain indeterminate and visceral.
One can argue that even vulgar images are sacred because their individual effects upon the psyche trigger a kaleidoscopic ripple effect through personal "time". Words are limited in that respect being abstract constructs based on cultural parameters. Words rob our individual experience of being by conceptualizing it. Images do the opposite.
Which ... becomes frightening because it is a bridge to "otherness", to the "abject", to chaos, entropy. Lack of a meaning in interpretation. Julia Kristeva and Klaus Ottmann discuss some aspects of the phenomenon. It is the result of a loss of trust. Not belief. Belief is yet another mental construct.
Anyhow, this is a point of departure for a much longer conversation...
So these paintings are a kind of bridge to me, I use them to share these impulses and the ways I experience being, and perhaps they could be useful to others, and, perhaps not. That is the beautiful thing about it... There.