Why do I paint?
I crave expression, I crave being known - not known in the
sense of fame, but known in the sense of being understood,
being "grokked," being recognized as someone to
whom the viewer can relate.
Each piece, even a commissioned work, begins with an image
or idea that moves me. I surrender to the movement. I revel
in it, listen to it, taste it, let it envelop and fill me.
The feeling floods my awareness; the world falls away. Slowly
it takes tangible form, trapped in layers of paint, smudges
There is a secret eroticism in the act of externalizing inner
experiences, pinning them to paper, exposed to the light of
day. I am, I suppose, little more than a mind-slut with artistic
pretensions. I guess it's a form of exhibitionism, if an oddly
private one... Maybe, in the end, I seek to make the viewer