I paint because I bleed Alizarin Crimson.
As a small child - third grade, to be exact - I painted a watercolor sun into a sky and CREATED A COLOR! I was amazed at how simply I could generate a new color that wasn’t there before. I remain awe-struck, still, at this constant new discovery of color creation and juxtaposition. Because I am a colorist I have a great need to present to the world what color can do.
My work is also about introspection — spiritual, psychological, soul-searching. If only to look inside, look at my work. It would be good for the viewer to be still and accept her/his personal freedom of interpretation.
My process is one of "reduction"; painting until the canvas is over-full of movement and connections (as I see the world's confusion) then obliterating that world-chaos - removing extraneous marks - until the work and the discovery become a complete and orderly composition, as I would love the world to be; composed, organized. I am excited by the evolution of shapes and the discovery of how movement impacts each of these shapes to become cohesive.
Channeling the "process" rather than focusing on "product" wrenches the visceral truth(s). Finishing touches and fine-tuning soften the blow. For me, there is much listening to authentic intuitiveness with abstraction (and, it always requires music). Lately I have been exploring a new technique of "drawing" with dried acrylic "skins" (residues) that are adhered to the canvas just because they are so beautiful I cannot bear to destroy them.
As in all art, my work reflects my personal domain, reflection and history. Lightness and joy are new to my paintings - previous works were usually forebodingly dark portraits based on German Expressionism. What remains pure and consistent is coloration and intensity.
I see abstraction everywhere - in nature, in architecture, in my mind’s eye. Look at a window - study each individual pane and you just might see an infinite number of exciting compositions of line, color, dimension, perspective and form, as I do.