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I have a terrible memory. But painting the places that mean something to me helps me remember them and understand them. And I’m reminded that the things about the places that I wanted to keep ‘ a beauty, a certain quietness and realness ‘ seemed so transient.
I like painting representationally, and I like realism (but it’s not interesting to me to simply faithfully record what’s in front of me). I grapple with the concerns that all realist painters share ‘ how to make space move and sit still and how to make someone believe that color is actually light on objects ‘ and I also have an insistent need that, at the end, in spite of everything, the paintings all show that they’re made of paint.
These are paintings of places apprehended: I know I want to paint the place when I sense I’ve stumbled onto beauty that seems transient. There’s a desire to take it, sieze it, as it has seized me. While the places may be different ‘ a parking lot, a dining room, a street corner ‘ the emotional chord is similar. I’m trying to paint that vibration, and each new painting is ultimately just a new angle or pathway into a similar emotional resonance. The task is as simple, and as complex, as coming to grips with the reality of things.
I hope I’ve hit the chord just loud enough so others hear it too.
