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I've been painting for about 10 years. During much of that time, my approach
was to paint representationally. In other words, I painted things the way I
saw them although I avoided being too tight in my interpretation on the
canvas.
I have to admit, until recently, I was never a fan of abstract paintings. I
found it difficult to appreciate the talent or comprehend the hidden meaning
the artist buried in the canvas. That all changed for me a couple of years
ago.
It was actually a fortuitous accident that sent me down my path toward
abstraction. I was painting a landscape and was not happy with the product
of my work. So I started wielding my brush and vigorously slapping on paint
to cover up my disappointment. And as I did, something interesting started
to emerge. I continued down this new and once forbidden path and found
myself delighted with the discovery.
As I experimented further with more and more paintings, I started to view
abstracts in a whole new light. Eventually, I realized that an abstract
painting doesn't have to have some deeper esoteric meaning. In fact, my view
is much simpler. It is all about the emotional response a work creates in
the viewer.
To me, a particular painting works when you connect with it. Sometimes you
can be drawn in by the depth or the colors, other times you can find the
shapes or textures appealing. Whatever it is, the painting gives you a
reason to stare for more than a fleeting moment. The connection is usually
instantaneous. It happens or it doesn't and it's different for everyone.
So when asked what my paintings mean, I find myself stumped for a proper
answer. They are not meant to mean anything. If they are successful, they
grab you. It can be a bold yank or a gentle tug. They may evoke a smile or a
pause. But if they work, they connect with you at some emotional level and
give you whatever you need or are open to get from them.
As an artist, I enjoy getting lost in the process of creating; taking twists
and turns that inevitably lead me down a path. I don't take my strokes and
marks on the canvas too seriously. If I did, I'd be afraid to push the
painting to a new and often unexpected place.
While I usually have an idea or image in mind when I start a painting, I
rarely end up with a work that matches my original vision. In most of my
abstracts, I use a palette knife as my primary tool. I've found that using a
palette knife, instead of a brush, is very liberating. Freed from a need to
duplicate an image, it has allowed me to be bolder and less inhibited.
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