I’ve been making art most of my life. When I was a kid, I even won some blue ribbons for my own artwork. Clay was my medium of choice for a long while and I was an avid potter and ceramics artist. I belonged to The Clayhouse in Santa Monica and the senior members were generous about sharing their knowledge and skills. But my left shoulder started complaining about the big lumps of clay spinning on the wheel and, frankly, I was getting bored with the bland color palate of high-fire clay. A couple of trips to Paris and the vibrant colors of “flat art” (as I call it) in museums and galleries brought me back to drawing and painting. On and off, I have been painting in my studio and screwing around with spray paint creations in the garage. It is my nature to have several projects going at once. So now I find myself with hundreds of paintings in my basement from those decades of work and my paintings want to get out into the world. They want to be set free!
“I am not the water. I am just the fountain.”
For me, the process of making art is a wrestling match between the image or idea that wants to flow through me and my ego. When I am grooving in the present moment, moving color around on a surface, and dancing to rock 'n roll, I am in the right place. The Dancing Me seeks creative expansion and expression.
But the ego judges. To my ego, the work is never right. The Ego Me seeks perfection.
I try to remember that I am not the water. I am just the fountain. When I paint, I look for the feeling of surrender and flow. The Dancing Me just puts pink where pink belongs. The Dancing Me knows where the blue goes.
I want to think about things that lighten my own heart or make me laugh, so I paint people, places, and things that I enjoy.
I feel responsible for the ideas as they want to flow through my fingers, and I want to fulfill them in service to the power that gave them. My job now is to listen and enjoy the journey to what comes n