Where do the songbirds go in the winter? #1 Painting

The work itself. The painting. The ink work. Calligraphy. The psychic state of work-driven contemplation that focuses the mind, heightens awareness, frees the ego and makes time dissolve. That is what drives me. I work from the kernel of an idea or a feeling; not a plan. Even when there is a design, my work is spontaneous, improvisational, jazz-like. My precision is imprecise, my exactness is inexact. Perfection is a temptation and an enemy. My work invites close inspection: contemplation of imprecision, inexactness and imperfection. Many of my pieces have multiple layers. They have their own history, manifold incarnations, patterns that compete with one another, contrast, complement, build complexity, or reduce to simplicity. Over the last twenty-five years I have worked consistently and intensively in the studio. Beginning with assembled objects in painted boxes, one medium led to another, one style to another in an ongoing intuitive exploration. Three-dimensional assemblages led to two-dimensional collages I dubbed ‘woven photos.’ Then followed three-dimensional ‘tape on books’: books mummified within quilt patterns of colorful electricians tape. Then abstract painting: vaporous landscapes; neo-geometric; anti-minimalist; text-based paintings that challenge comprehension or shout TRUTH; post-modern mandalas; multi-layered matrices; constructivist networks; paintings sawed into pieces and recombined into mosaics. And whenever I butt-up against a dead-end in my painting, I reach for paper and sumi ink to simplify my thoughts or simply explode using traditional calligraphy brushes or non-traditional brushes with super-long bristles. When I paint on plywood panels I build hardwood float frames. When I paint on canvas, it is loose canvas, and when the painting is finished I build the wooden frame and stretch the canvas.