In my painting practice, certain mark-making habits give way to familiar imagery — flora and organic matter take shape from swirling strokes, pops of color dappled in staccato rhythms, and drizzled vine-like drips. The landscape emerges from horizontal striations and strokes that prompt the memory.
But the imagery is more surprise than plan. My focus is primarily about “letting paint be paint”. Paint that swirls, bleeds, melds and breathes. Paint that humbles, dances in and out like an imp, and forever plays symbiotic host to color.
Its personality is immense. Conveying imagery sometimes calm, sometimes chaotic, it awakens our awareness to the simple joy of seeing, contemplating, connecting.
Its more subtle nature calms, while its bold, ‘life of the party’ facet is silently loud. Spectrums spun through the kaleidoscope of the mind and put out by the artist’s hand test our ability to find order in the chaos and structure in the random.
For me it has lifted fog, given me challenges that require ever-changing solutions, and shown me the importance of relinquishing control. Paint arrives on its own terms and simply asks that we steer gently, consciously, and remain in the moment.
My penchant for bold color is probably a throwback to growing up in New England where long bouts of gray leave you in a state of near-hibernation, waiting for signs of spring and the ‘smelling salts’ of daffodils.