When I began to paint, I was drawn to the figure as a subject for my art. I had, at that time, drawn the human form in many of my classes, and so its migration to oil was very logical. I painted the figure for several years, and I continue to draw it to this day, but I often felt frustrated when I tried to render it in paint. Elements of line and form, so critical in the representation of the body, felt natural with the medium of charcoal, but with paint they felt forced and restrictive. Paint, which smears and bleeds and stains, often creates its own impressions, accidental perhaps, but these aspects could interfere with a successful depiction of a representational form.
One day, I decided to let the paint be, and to let it guide the image that would emerge on the parallelogram of stretched canvas. I began to respond more to the paint and less to a preconceived idea of what would appear. Thus began what I consider to be a more mature relationship with the medium: painter and paint in dialogue, in dance, or in a series of chess moves. And, ironically, perhaps, the body remains very present in these compositions, in such plastic associations as flesh tones and what some have deemed the appearances of organs and veins, but in more abstracted ways, also, showing us, possibly, what we cannot physically see of a being otherwise.