Last of the yellow mums Painting

Art has been the center of my life since childhood. It opens the door to the subconscious and hushes the noise of ordinary days. The effect of light on everything, flower gardens in the afternoon, or the street lights late at night, a surprise rainbow, it's all magic. I follow a line or a color or the contrast of light and dark, where it really pushes the envelope and opens my mind. Once there is a shift, then I'm in...all in. My interest is in the dream, natural beauty that catches me unawares, stopping me mid breath, mid step, the sudden realization of yes, that's what it's all about. Words are not necessary. And I try to put this into my art. The art flows of its own accord, sometimes beginning in figurative impression and then moving into abstraction. I give the art respect by following it, releasing an ultimate control of the destination. It works best for me to have belief in the art. Sometimes a child or creature or flower will appear and seem to habitate the art and then disappear so that the art evolves and changes direction and emotion. Art is a discovery blending the seen and the unseen. Truth is important to me, true colors that sing, a sincere brushstroke or movement that is natural rather than calculated.