My easel has been set up in every one of the 26 places I have lived so far. By the time I decided to give painting my full time efforts, I was well into my early forties. Those early decades of incubation have brought a sharper focus to the only formal training I received as an art major in college back in the mid-70’s.
The paintings have been described by some as narrative. I do enjoy a good storyteller, but I begin by listening to the subject itself. Studying, in ever deepening detail, the nature of an object. I learn from its bones and scars what stories it has to tell. Then I try to tease out the intersections of beauty and mystery between artist, subject and viewer”and hopefully weave some whimsy in between the brushstrokes.
Most of the objects in my still lifes are discarded, well used and worn, common and familiar, and, like the patina on my Aunt Imy’s old porcelain teacups, they resonate with the spirits of all the hands which have used and passed them along “and the conversations they each have overheard. The interiors, portraits and landscapes have histories as well. I invite the viewer to come close and explore the detail and, just as the characters are revealed and the interior brought into focus, a shadow appears in the wake of someone who has moved through a room, or a mysterious light glows from within a vessel and pauses your glance”and you are full of new questions.