Thoughts on painting...

 I’ve always been intrigued by the way time transforms a landscape, creating patterns and meaning in the endless cycle of growth and decay––the expanding arc of a river as it devours one bank to feed the other––the soft, silver patina of weathered wood––aeons of desert rain recorded on a canyon wall by the parallel strokes of gravity’s descending brush ––the slightly-skewed horizon of a distant bajada.

I also love the magic of light––the stained-glass incandescence of backlit cottonwood leaves in early spring––reflections in a stream––a sun-raked field at dawn––the blazing halo of a calf’s silhouette at sunset––the azure glow of distant mountains.

My reasons for painting are really pretty simple. Painting helps me understand, and savor, that which I find beautiful or compelling in nature, and it provides the means of expressing this to others.

At first I focused on painting landscapes en plein air––working small, fast, direct ––and surrounded by nature. For me, however, plein air painting is almost like a sport––a race against the “clock” of changing light and shadow. While I enjoy the challenge, I’m not very fast––so time constraints tend to limit my canvas size and subject matter. Plein air work now serves mostly as a reminder of how colors and values appear to the natural eye, and the majority of my paintings are done in the studio.

Although I usually find it necessary to rearrange or otherwise edit some aspects of a scene, I try not to change too much. Landscapes reveal a great deal about cause and effect, and authenticity can be sacrificed when elements are altered or separated without a clear understanding of the relationships that once connected them. On the other hand, subject matter sometimes “takes a back seat” as my attention shifts to the immediate feel and texture of the paint, the juxtaposing of certain colors, or the expressiveness of a particular stroke.

When working in the studio, I often find myself mentally entering and “occupying” a scene––reliving the experience of actually being there as I refine and emphasize those features or qualities that drew me to it in the first place––much as an avid gardener fine-tunes the design of a cherished personal oasis. Indulging this mild fantasy seems to imbue the finished painting with a sense of invitation, ideally creating a “portal” through which others may enter and explore the realms of their own memories or imaginations.