Artist’s statement:

“I’m stepping into my office with so many messages to answer, getting out the canvas, exhaling color and form in reply, into meaning, into wherever we are now, blowing out candles on a birthday cake, the extinguished flames now gossamer runes. Consciousness asks if this blot is famous, or if I’m related to that line smudged by the heel of my palm as I answer the phone. It’s hard to hear. The connection is cutting out the picture I had in mind, the mind’s eye, some neuropeptide suddenly reminding me about that time I fell in gym class, 1998-glitter headband scratching down into my eyes, and I see the colors I have been painting all along, the burning Madonnas I sketch, tourists tipping me all this time.

“Now the invoice is printing. Only a minor charge for the damage that happened in Pompeii, still life cremated by this irrational Earth, and I have rendered something in my youth while dying, and perhaps you will look upon it while we’re all dying–every day–and feel alive, every day. Watercolor beads across my paper like God’s tongue stretching down to the Earth with colossal yawn, and resting on the taste buds is a city so blithe with identity and money that it will be swallowed upon waking. My technique? It’s always on the tip of my tongue.”

As you explore the gallery, click to enlarge each image.