I want my painting to come instantly and immediately, so that in end, there is no idea to be interpreted, rather a thing to be experienced…
I’ve always found the most interesting art tauntingly coquettish: evasive and misleading yet beckoning and alluring; secretive and shifty yet alarmingly aggressive and extroverted… It points to itself yet holds a mirror on to you; invites yet shuns you; captivates, mystifies, aborts and repels you. It is something onto itself, born of reflections, projections, disciplined work, incidents, and coincidences.
My creative temperament is such that it thrives on change. I do not work with or from technique, I work against it, destroying it. Consistent efforts to changing approach are essential to my continuance. At times something clicks and I’m on a roll – something like falling, flowing, or slipping. And for that period, long or short, the work just seems to pour out, as if something in me, or through me, knows exactly what it’s doing, and yet I have no control. Other times (which seem to last forever) familiarity sets in, and the elements of awe, surprise, and discovery fade. Then I feel I’m inching along, hitting wall after wall - a time when Sabotage and Monkey Wrenches become indispensable tools. Sooner or later though, it all makes sense somehow or another, and the cycle continues. Sometimes I’m lucky enough to come upon a subject (person, place or thing) which inspires and spurs me along. Sometimes I feel empty, void of source and direction. Regardless, the creative impulse and the need to be engaged and to work is always the great muse.
To me the creative act is a thing of magic, of tapping into the non-ordinary; sensing, and absorbing, then working your way out of scientifically, in end remaining with the impression. To me Art is Alchemy.
Art calls me to flow along its path, to follow its course spontaneously, and to relinquish to it with a sense of abandon…