Visual perceptions fused in paint
hung on a wall, electrically illuminated.
No written or oral communication necessary.
They are visual stimulation,
a point of concentration
for those who can linger
in subtle transition
of atmosphere in quietude.
When I was a young boy, often visiting the Cleveland Museum of Art in my home town, I was fascinated by the works of Jules Olitski
and Mark Rothko. Standing in front of their paintings, which contained no apparent imagery, instilled in me the concept of eliciting an emotional response through patient viewing. Today, I consider myself a retro artist continuing in that vein of constructing paintings that create direct sensations and child-like wonder in the viewer. I believe that as a society we are devolving to no longer value quiet time,
quiet spaces and quiet minds—so for me, creating slow contemplative and challenging visual paintings to off-set today’s fast-paced, multi-tasking, app-saturated-mobile-device society is critical.
For the past twenty years I’ve been experimenting with layering a variety of media. Using multiple application and subtraction techniques, I’ve created a unique surface experience unlike my predecessors. When viewed from a distance, my paintings have a luminous, atmospheric,
optical effect obscuring the surface details. When the viewer approaches the canvas for closer inspection, its phosphorescent effect retreats into the matte surface revealing the many subtle, intricate details that comprise the whole. My gratification in painting is in the process of making—the doing of it—in which every finished work has a life and history of its own. Each layer of paint is lapped over the side of the canvas leaving
a visual memory map for those who are willing to look around the edges. I see each finished painting as a metaphor for living, for as the Talking Heads questioned in their song, Once in a Lifetime, “Well how did I get here?”