I have been painting, primarily in oil and primarily landscapes, since 2001. The actual practice of painting has trained me to see with a painter's eye, so that now the shapes, values, and colours of the world insist on being seen and represented. One series I have recently worked on involves the contrast of disintegrating, rusty, human-built, cement piers on the one hand and shifting ocean waves on the other. Another, still in progress, focuses on the highlights and shadows of cloth folds, whether in clothing or curtains.
Most centrally, though, as an artist, I am fascinated by water, whose constantly changing state makes it a compelling and demanding subject to paint. I spend time daily studying the play of light on water, especially on the surfaces of placid water, with its complex patterning of light and dark reflections. I see myself engaged in the task of documenting the life of water. My recent work, painting moving surfaces of water, forces me to confront a conflict between my love for the loose, textured impasto of knife work and other, brush techniques more compatible with the stillness of such images.
I know that art is about perception, but it seems to me that your art is especially attentive to that very thing: perception, absolutely focused and accurate, of light and movement and the immensely variable refractions of those, in the elements (water, stone, fabric) which you take as subjects. (Carol M.)
Fan-f@#$ing-tastic! (Mariella V.)
The wetness of the water, here and elsewhere, makes it move. As I looked back and forth and up and down through this [Forget the Gondolas] series, the water splashed and sputtered and sucked. It made crashing and rippling sounds and ran up against the pilings and smoothly around. It's an amazing portrayal of live, wild water! (Ann M.)