When I was a kid, I loved to draw birds. They fascinated me because they did whatever they wanted – fly, sit on top of the house, look at everyone, see everything. They were complex and odd. They walked funny, but had beautiful, intricate feathers. I was drawn to the organic aspects of artwork, and to realism. How real could I make things look? Anyone could squiggle and go outside the lines; it was staying inside the lines that was cool.
That was a long time ago, and I now like to squiggle and go outside the lines. I also like to paint fields of color and express the essence of something without having it look exactly like what it’s supposed to. My work is based on fluidity and stillness, on syncopation and consonance. There is a stream of consciousness that flows in all of us, but there are variations in its motions and rhythms. Capturing that requires quietude – and openness to shifts in one’s own awareness. Art is tuning into a giant field of frequencies and filtering the signal to capture that little spark of something special. Along the way, perspectives are transformed. You look at an infinite vista and it becomes more a state of mind than a specific locale. You zoom in on only the arc of a room, or the jutting angle of a monolith. Juxtaposed geometric shapes appear as inactive containers of hue and tone, but perhaps they have a story to tell. Everyday objects lead double lives, and the random, half-finished and discarded meld into homogeneous coexistence. Methods and materials also change along the way, but the magic of art is in the doing of it, no matter what form that takes.
It’s flying wherever you want to.