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If creation has a pattern, mine would be cyclical. Linear progression is difficult for me to perceive when I stop to take the time to watch people pass, look at plants and insects below me, reread passages in books, cook without a recipe, and leave a piece unfinished to start a new one with the anticipation of a new insight into the one before it. Ever since I discovered the art of "quietude" and heeded my mother's advice to "Hold only your own", my once quest for a "typical" existence has never come to pass. This could also be said for my technique. I tend to work on more than one piece at a time sometimes sitting with them for quite some time before approaching them again. Instead of creating an identical representation of my subject matter, I want to portray its vital energy. This is not a classical approach, but an abstract interpretation of color, texture, and forms.
I hope to evoke a contemplative mood in the viewer which asks, "What space and time have I entered into?" The most powerful philosophy that I have been taught was from a professor at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, Robert Skaggs, who told me of a "suspension of disbelief", a phrase coined by J.R.R. Tolkien. The image engulfs you in its existence suspended in time. Color and texture are my experiment. Layering glazes and collage simultaneously is a constant "morphing" of my subject matter. I prefer not to create a time line with my work, but parallels of time that possess glints of memory and an atmospheric climate. I gain inspiration from textures and shapes in nature that could be as infinite as a horse head nebula, and as finite as the patterns and lines that make up a wasps outer shell. I hope to evoke a wonderment of simple things and a sensory engagement of the viewer. The combination of small, medium, and large scale works combined will exemplify my experimentation with materials and scale.
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