The paintings in the current series, which I’ve been developing for the past five years, are records of an uninhibited process of building up and knocking down, layering failures until the painting arrives at something with a recognizable but unfamiliar presence. The worked surfaces reveal glimpses of what lies beneath, as images buried in process are often unearthed and exposed in fragments which in turn become a foundation for something else. Figures suggest themselves through marks and rise into the painting fully or partially formed and are erased, only to rise again, unwelcome and often perverse, in different places and forms. The palette is murky, like underground thought, but over time bright colors build up on the surface: I think of these colors as flowers and gardens, creating a visual front to the muddy depth. A painting is finished when its figures create a dynamic which implies some kind of narrative, or else are so idiosyncratic that they simply assert their own existence.  

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​The paintings are of a unique and idiosyncratic nature.

The heavily worked surfaces reveal glimpses of what lies beneath, images that were buried in process are often unearthed and exposed in fragments which in turn become a foundation for something else

Figures present themselves in the process

Figures come into the painting Figures are suggested by the marks in the painting

Figures come into the painting off and on - constantly erasing/painting over and another emerges Figures underneath Or fragments of figures

Abstract marks may become figures

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​​End of a painting - either the figures create a dynamic in which there’s some kind of narrative, or they’re so idiosyncratic that they just suggest their own existence

Abstract painting is a vehicle to get to some sort of / don’t care if they end figurative, but paintings tend to go that way

Layering is a vehicle to get to something I haven’t seen before

Why figures - variation, character - don’t like them - personalities coming in Impish, chaotic - perverse / would want to keep out but it comes in, allow them to come in

Colors - colors generally are more muddy, but bright colors build up on the surface - think of them as flowers and gardens - create a visual front and depth

Things floating up to the surface

Painting is center of practice

Surprise, getting lost in the process, dig your way out, sense of relief

Work faster than I can rationally question

Optimism in the question ‘why’ / arriving at the answer of ‘why not’

Constant state of repairing or altering

Part of finishing is when you recognize something that you don’t know

How do you know that you’re not fooling or tricking yourself? The only way is to not think too much.

Action brings another action or reaction w/o critical interference

Trick is to try to escape - escape this world into another and bring out into existence a door for others to escape.

Not by mere illustration and literal representation, but in a psychological place and position one is lost working in; that world has to come out with you when you exit and the remnants of that are what’s visible on canvas or paper, etc, and hopefully that shows this world a new world

The figure wants to be brought back in, so I bring it back in / agency

Self-sabotage - knocking things down, don’t be afraid to let the structure fall apart.

Any of these ideas can change at any time-don't hold onto to any too tightly

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​​  As long as I can remember, I’ve always been a bit of a treasure hunter, always looking for something I haven’t seen before. As a young person I spent a fair amount of time digging for in old dump sites to find vintage objects to sell at antique stores. The main motivation was the element of surprise, I never knew what I would unearth, old bottles, plastic toys, doll parts, rusty metal car parts and so much more all covered with the patina formed of being un-cherished, cast away and spending years buried underground. 

  There was a record store in Sacramento called Tower Records. I first discovered in 1980 or ’81 when I was around 13 years old, or at least that’s my first memory of making a connection with it. In the record store there was a section called “imports”. The import section was really just a small area on the racks where they stocked the stuff that wasn’t mainstream. Whenever I had money selling old finds to antique stores, allowance, or selling fresh water clams that I’d dig up from the Sacramento River bank to the local bait shop, I would find my way to the import section and pick out 45’s and LP’s based sometimes on the covers and other times just because of a discounted or low price. Every trip didn’t end in a purchase, only when something on the rack spoke to me did I buy and that didn’t mean that it spoke once I got it home and listened to it. There were many forgettable duds, but the ones that hit really hit. 

  There was a song by The Germs, I can’t remember exactly which one, but it was definitely a song by that band, and it made a lasting impact on my perception, though this is something that after decades I’ve only realized. When I heard that sound, that song, for the first time I knew it was something different from anything I’d heard before, I don’t even know if I thought it was good or bad, just different, and it touched something deep. The simple repetitive musical structure with vocals that only slightly respected the audio frame on which the singer, Darby Crash, was attempting to hang his lyrics. Or maybe he wasn’t trying at all. The message was both clear and confusing at the same time. At times the words would catch up to the rhythm and after a short time fall back behind or race ahead but as a whole it made sense, they were delivered direct, unfiltered and fresh. This new awareness of how I absorbed this music so long ago, I’ve come to realize, is a big influence on how I see and make my art.