W H Y I P A I N T
A good painting is a radiant physical presence energizing the space it inhabits, sparking the imagination, clearing the mind, and refreshing the soul.
In the studio there is a moment when the painting begins to "breathe," when I feel my blood pressure drop and there's a sudden sense of quiet. That feeling of rightness is always a bit of a shock. Often it feels like I am watching it happen, as if the work is painting itself.
In moments of candor, I have heard artists of all types, from screenwriters and novelists to musicians and poets, acknowledge this as part of creativity. As Robert Frost put it,“No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.”
Somehow that sense of wonder, that spark of life, lives in the finished painting, encoded in and radiating out from the rhythms of color, line, space and texture.
People often ask me, “How do you know when a painting is finished?”
That sense of rightness is the key, but a painting is never truly finished in the studio. That only happens when the painting is quietly enriching someone’s daily life.