My process requires a ton of self-belief, nerve, patience, and a healthy sense of humour. Sometimes I feel like using my deep love of drawing and illusionistic old-master techniques. I get all nerdy pouring over books on Velasquez, Manet, and the amazing figurative painter Liu Xiao Dong. Then I’ll contradict myself, decide that “arggggh— form is a trap!” and go into a different mode entirely using only lines on paper, or some big splotches of yellow and red because I am feeling like “there’s way too much grey, here, and if I don’t put in some colour I’m going to go nuts”. I am not making abstractions, nor am I trying to be Cy Twombly. I am scratching an itch. I’m saying I am alive in the world and my hand can make this mark to prove it. There is no right answer to making art, nor is there a right style or subject for any one artist. We are multi-dimensional beings and the breadth and range of possibilities for us are vast. Let’s go.
Visitors by appointment.