Artist Statement

For as long as I can remember, I have been making pictures. Beginning with the finger paints and Crayons I used as a child—and moving to the fine bristle and sable brushes I now hold in my hands—I have always been drawing, always been painting. And I have never stopped. Art has been a part of my life for, well, most of my life. So, why then, am I uncomfortable writing about my art? I’m not sure.

I guess I find words meaningless when everything I do is hanging on the wall. The full enterprise is right there: every brushstroke, every line, every shape, and every color. The complete thought process is illustrated down to the last nuance. What hangs on the wall is an elaborate explanation of my artistic philosophy.

And still, I am asked about my “process.” Simply put, I don’t have one. My pictures are just always there. When someone flicks on a light switch, there is an expectation of light, and so it happens. It’s the same with my pictures. I expect them to be there, and so they are. I get the first picture in my head, and then a series of the same type seems to follow. At some point, a new type of picture takes over, the previous series is finished, and a new one begins.

These series can take years to run their course. My last series, Circus Stars, was with me for a couple of years. To me, these works were a cross between a mug shot and a circus poster. I don’t know where they came from or even why they’re here. The concept just occurred to me one day when I was sitting in my studio with a cup of coffee in my hand.

I have three complete portfolios from the last decade or so. Before Circus Stars, I did a series of brightly colored, hanging cloth. And before that, still life. The only common denominator is that they were all done by the same hand and with the same skills. I think they are unique—all of them—but of course they would be, because they originated somewhere in my mind.