I see the process of painting as capturing the felt sense of life moving through space. Using color and mark, a snapshot is created of the open aperture through which one peers.
My work is grounded in space yet becomes tactile. My studio and home are on a ridge overlooking a large open valley of flood plain, empty of houses and lights. Storms can be seen building 20 miles away, and the stars come down to the horizon line. It’s in these broad spaces where I work and also am most comfortable. Both the literal as well as internal landscapes inform canvas size; canvases are sometimes monumentally scaled to reflect physical depth or breadth, while smaller canvases may describe more intimate landscapes.
The process is tactile, starting with a 30’ roll of raw canvas on the ground, unrolled, pinned by rocks and then measured and torn to shape. Deep, rich stains of color are mixed-poured-pushed into the canvas while it’s on the ground. The colors initially laid down become the atmosphere and environment in which the painting lives. Then the canvas is tacked to a wall and opaque mark making begins a free moving, playful intuitive process. Lastly is the quiet work of looking, studying, adjusting, movements stemming from deeply interior shifts, gentle and delicate, as a compass needle swings back and forth and finally slows, until the work comes into balance.
In order for the paintings to sincerely hold and transport this snapshot, the senses must be engaged, as well as emotions and memory, to use a felt sense of color and mark. Tapping into this sense, without a fixed narrative, creates unbound visual slices of life. The degrees of separation between inspiration and fulfillment are narrow. In these ways, yards and yards of raw canvas are filled, as color is poured and marks are made.