I am more cognizant of my early fascination with the senses – shapes, textures, and color – than the details of this afternoon’s lunch. This is because no matter how delicious or repulsive the meal was, it’s not as memorable as the ambling rotation of a hanging mobile in a seemingly currentless room. The mobile narrates the presence of the laws of physics, the atmosphere of the room, the movement of the air, eddies, currents, the influence of our own presence. It’s as telling as the curve of the horizon.

I enjoy the exploration of the moment, the serendipitous, the juxtaposed – through any relevant medium. I’m drawn to the whimsical, and tickled by that which illuminates a singular recognizable concept (or highlights a relationship between concepts), whether ignited at a subconscious level, evoked in a visceral way, plainly obvious, or sarcastic and mocking in nature.

And I’m drawn to figurative work, particularly the individual human form. I like that it can be expressed with a single flowing line, and that the more one adds, the more complex the exercise becomes. Translucent skin with its blues and reds hidden just below the surface, slightly reflecting ambient colors, stretched over muscle and bone become meditations in the flow and mixing of paint, or as I’ve discovered recently, even more challenging when raytraced in a virtual scene over the mesh of a 3D model.

My work is informed by a formal background in psychology and political science, as well as argument and rhetoric, creative writing, bureaucracy, and technology – and like virtually every other creative (or so I prefer to believe), the parts and sums of my experiences and any paradigm that ever or might ever cross my neural paths.

But even so much as my work can be an exercise in expression, a way to connect the dots between percepts and precepts, a discussion or dialogue – it can be a meditation, an aimless scrawl governed by the distinct patterns of chaos, or an attempt to annihilate meaning with what invariably becomes organic and meaningful, or simplistic to the point of banality, or an anesthetic to aesthetics.