Creation is always a form of infinite improbability and love. Art is no exception. I think of each image as a love letter from me to the heart of someone I do not yet know. In the 'writing' of these love letters, I come to know the intricacies of my inner heart, the sadness and the joys, that connect with what is human in all of us.
Each painting is successful if it is more than the paint, time, skill and paper that went into its making. Success is in that moment when someone's voice catches in their throat, a tear comes to their eye, a memory plays out across their face that had gone almost forgotten for too long. My art exists to convey my love, my memory of a moment, the timelessness we forget to watch between the clock ticks of our lives, the connections between us all. I create to celebrate the stories people send me of how much they love their art, and the memory and moments the works bring back or create for them. I love knowing that someone's prized parrot talks to my painting all day long, happier for the company it provides. I paint for the woman who could not afford to buy, but fell so in love that she stood in one spot, studying a piece for half an hour, crying.
My work tells a story, conveyed as a feeling I try to give to the viewer. I cannot give you the actual memories, of my grandfather bringing me a pair of tiny chickens, freshly hatched, from the feed mill where he worked, as a gift to his favorite toddler. I cannot give you the memory of nearly cuddling them to death before our trip ended. I cannot cause you to remember how he smelled, or the million little moments where he made me laugh, nor the depth of the amount that I miss him now that he is gone. But I can give you a glimpse, a still frame among all the years of sadness and joy, a tiny moment through the eyes of a child. I try to give you the magic of those moments through the images I create, and the words I write.
My mother exposed me to arts and crafts while I was still a very small child. It wasn't long before I was determined to out-do her finished work. Art was the thing that drove me forward from a very young age. Art was the thing that I felt successful with, even while I struggled through un-diagnosed ADHD, which didn't leave me with a lot of success. Art and writing were the things that got me through the years I struggled with clinical depression, and struggled to find answers for my various problems, while I worked day jobs to barely pay the bills. And even a fairly crushing defeat in the face of a season of art shows didn't damp my fire to somehow make this work.
I was accepted into nearly all the high end shows here in Colorado, but it was the beginning of the recession, and very few people were buying at all. And I struggled with the experience of so many people who would linger for so long, but were unable to buy. I lost many thousands of dollars on all the necessary supplies for doing art shows and entry fees at a time when no one could afford that. I cried many tears. But everything else I looked at left me tepid before long, when the challenge had departed for me. I keep recalling all my college professors who told me that my art and my writing were amazing, and that I should find means to combine them.
I return to my desire to share my feelings and my love for the miracles in the world around us. Always I return to the adventure of living, the moments of the real. I hope that my work taps some energy you did not realize you had, or helps you heal your scars as the act of creating it gives me energy to overcome the ADD and learning disabilities I have struggled with all my life. My art is focus, connection, peace among so much noise and always, the whimsy and accidents that become so much a part of the final beauty. Carry it with you on your journey and love these things as I have loved them.
Flowers and Plants