Thoughts on The Observor and The Observed

I draw inspiration from my home in the rural San Joaquin Valley. I
love living here. In particular, I love the colors of dusk – moments
after the strong western light fades. I also enjoy our dark night
skies and the Persiod meteor showers each August.

As a painter, I'm interested in form and formlessness and the
ephemeral relationship between the two. I enjoy exploring the idea of
things becoming . . . of forms emerging from a vast space and
disappearing into nothingness, like the cycles of the moon as it
appears and disappears from our field of vision.

My paintings convey my intuitive sense about nature. Caring for
injured wildlife, for example, has brought me in touch with my
environiment in a most profound and practical way–from pondering the
etheric egg-to-birth pathway to the everyday reality of the hunt. I'm
deeply grateful to Fresno Wildlife Rescue & Rehabilatation, for giving
me hands-on experience with hawks, great-horned owls, barn owls, song
birds, baby foxes and many other types of wild animals native to our
valley.

A very recent inspiration comes from my 2007 journey to the Kingdom of
Nepal, where the Himalayas reach the highest points on earth. The
Nepalese and Tibetans have long recognized the significance of living
close to the heavens, and Hindu and Buddhist cosmology is deeply
imbued with sky-touching symbolism as a metaphor for reaching
enlightenment. The phases of the moon was the theme of
my most recent exhibit at Fig Tree Gallery in March 2007.