statement

I rarely start with a plan.  Beginning a new piece, I typically pick my favorite color of the day or perhaps a color that I have too much of and I let the paint have its way, letting it do what it wants to do – drip, smear, spread – and I respond to that.  I’m channeling my inner non-judgmental kindergartner and broadly experimenting in those early passes.  It’s a call and response, a step forward or brushstroke into a new territory, seeing how it lands within the context of the whole and changing and modifying.  As the paintings progress, I’m layering color and mark-making, creating movement and energy, fine-tuning tonal relationships.  And sometimes, hopefully, eventually the work and the energy put into it – and the stars! – align and something real seems to appear.

Undergirding all of this process is my awe of nature, my love of landscape, the stunning vista, the blurry memories associated with place, of portraying an emotional landscape, of unearthing something inside me that by focusing on the process is also surprisingly revealed.  It’s like a garage sale or thrifting:  you show up, dig around for an inordinate amount of time, and pull out some treasures.