I was always the kid quietly doodling and drawing, dreaming and writing. So when it came time to choose a career, it was only natural that I would pursue a life in the arts. After some initial dualism studying both Literature and Fine Art I finally set the tiller firmly towards the painter’s life in my early twenties.
I mastered the art of rendering objects and people realistically early in high school and would bring fantastical, allegorical worlds filled with dragons and symbolic items to life. Every image was layered with symbolism and metaphor. An avid interest in literature and in writing fueled the ideas and the desire to create the visual equivalent of a story. Progressing into the world of art college (1978 – 1983) I was taught that realism was considered passe, redundant as, after all a photo could take care of recording what an item looked like quite ably!
To this day however, I can’t shake my love of making things. In a way, spending the tremendous effort and time that it takes to bring something into existence brings into reality what was first a perception. The magic of the studio for me is that the process of bringing into being an object, an idea, a question extricates awareness and gleanings of how my consciousness works. By becoming cognizant of those workings, I come to know myself.
If that sounds narcissistic, there is this thing about the arts: If the artist can accurately construct what they perceived, with and in and through all their humanness, the audience may experience that perception as well. in and through all your humanness, you may recognize, the thing being expressed .