When Air Breaks a Promise, oil on linen, 46.5x49.5
One could say that painting is a conversation, a talking with the unknown. The lexicon is color and shape and surface and line; edges abutting edges sharply or bleeding, seeping, blurring. The lexicon is movement in space and stillness in space. It is balance, either stable or tentative, standing or falling, just catching itself. Painting is its own language for which there is no translation.
Owl Light, oil on linen, 48.5x52
Speaking of Neptune, oil on linen, 38x32
Meanwhile, Wrens Are Sleeping, oil on linen, 47x49
Rain in 12 Minutes, oil on linen, 21x20
Wade In Shallow Water, oil on linen, 47x49