Sometimes I wonder if Agnes Martin was right when she said visual art cannot, and should not, be explained in words.
At the same time I identify with Don Marquis alter ego, Archy the Cockroach, who throws himself head down on the manual typewriter keys and pecks out “expression is the need of my soul.”
By circumstance as a child, and by choice as an adult, I have always lived in non-urban places and I am intrigued by the intimacy, balance and intricacy of the natural world.
By its endurance and above all by its transience wind seamlessly rippling the prairie grass, restless tide lines and dunes, cloud shadows and curling rivers, the slow erosion of mountains and it is this mingled feeling of timelessness and evanescence that seems to directs what I do.
My work, whether in words, clay or paper and ink, is a reflection of my desire to give form to these transient and transcendent moments.