Nature has pattern, it has harmony, nature is alive and has a soul. That's what I want, I can't make this shit up, I need to be there to see and feel it. Art is a lie, it starts with the rectangle, and creates an illusion it's not nature it's something else.
My experience of looking is my experience of noticing, and I need this experience first before I can paint it. When I'm engage in this process I don't see "it" all at once, I see it over time, maybe I see the "whole" first, maybe not, maybe nature reveals itself in a sequence I have no control over.
Like groundhogs day, each new start, is to face the blank canvas and look for the rhythms and harmonies that make this time and this place what it is. With my mind focused (right?) and my pallet the same, I keep as many things constant as I can, so the time and place can be the variable. In general it's about relative value, arrangement of form: recording what I see.
The painting I bring home is a record of what happened. Some say all that matters is the paint on the canvas, no matter how it got there. But without life behind the paint what is there? where is the story, the narrative? Life is all those moments in between all those other moments, each one, marked in time, and it's all I got.
#300 McCart Rd.
11 x 14