25 years ago I had what I imagine is a rare experience. It was the days before the internet and so I had not seen much art outside of textbooks, or prints hanging on the walls of friend's apartments and hip cafes. I had grown up in an average middle class suburb in Orange County, California, and have no recollection of visiting an art museum of any size, let alone such a place as the Art Institute of Chicago. Yet, I had the great fortune of wandering the halls of that epic building during the six years I lived in Chicago.

It was on one such occasion I rounded a corner in the Modern wing and, for the first time ever, laid eyes on a Jackson Pollock painting. Pollock seems almost cliché nowadays. However, at that time, for me in that place, with no prior awareness of such art, I was immediately overcome with the power of his work.

Out of my love for all things creative and an earnest desire to figure out how to make a compelling abstract image, I began to make my own works. It is my truest desire that people have beautiful, transcendent works of art to enrich and inspire their lives.

That is what I aim to make.

Each work is an exploration of the materials themselves. I have often thought of my work as a kind of excavation. I first apply thick layers of modeling gel or paste. Then I apply pigments in various locations on the surface. Next, I use various brushes, knives, and whatever might make a mark on the surface to create an interesting texture. I frequently scrape the surface a good deal to remove paint, exposing the surface beneath. That surface is often partially dry and reveals interesting patterns. The most difficult part of the abstract process is knowing when the painting is finished. Each gesture and mark has its directionality on the surface. They draw the eye one direction or another. Too many gestures in one direction pulls the eye off the surface of the painting. The goal is to trap the gaze on the surface so it dances from one gesture, or color, to the next. I also try to avoid anything representational. If I begin to imagine I see something in the painting, like a face, or a letter of the alphabet, I am greatly disturbed and will paint this out. The reason being that if I leave such an impression, that will be all I can see from thereon out. The painting is done when all of these attributes are acquired. There is a feeling of excitement that comes over me; a kind of ecstasy while looking at the painting. At this point there is a lot of staring at the surface. I examine it to be sure there is nothing distracting, out of place, and the the image is dynamic, yet balanced. I will revisit this gazing at the image many times over the next day or two to be certain it is finished. That feeling of excitement and ecstasy must remain, otherwise I might realize that I am disappointed by the result, and must paint over what I have done. Some paintings have two or three sessions involved to get them right. The longer I paint, however, the more I realize that I need to meddle with the paint less, and let it be the way it wants to be. Lastly, I enjoy making things that cannot be reproduced. In a world of mass production, which has its benefits, I want to make something entirely unique that not even I could replicate.

Drawing is very close to the the world of mathematics for me. What I am interested in capturing is the visual manifestation of the mechanics of my arms, hands, and fingers. Each drawing starts with a few quick, light gestures, or scribbles with a black pen. These are necessarily the result of the geometrical movements of my arm and hand. They inform the general shape of what will become the final image. After that, I outline these initial marks with more precision, making them appear like they were made with a calligraphy pen; though they are always made with a fairly fine tip pen. At times I will simply leave the drawing in black ink, or only shade with graphite or charcoal. Other times I will use a white marker which can smear, and blur the black ink. This gives the image a look of watercolor. When I do add color, I try to see which colors should go where by staring at the image. I can see which color I want to go where in my imagination before I put it down. Once that is determined, I hunt through the mass of colored pencils and markers for the color. I also need to decide if the texture I want is that of marker or colored pencil. The drawings remind me much of how objects viewed at great distances appear two dimensional. For example, flying in an airplane the landscape below ceases to have any texture, and appears flat. Yet, the geometric shapes of cities or rural landscapes remain. Another thing I think of when I look at my drawings is how they resemble things viewed under a microscope. The world viewed with such an apparatus also appears two dimensional. I find many of my drawings to look like insects or similar to if one were to look closely at mold or a dead leaf. It is this connection between the forms of nature, and the fact that the geometric mechanism of my body is evolved from nature that gives my drawings similarity to such things as amoebas and insects.