We paint so that culture can dream; for without that, civilization is unworthy of humanity, let alone the angels ….
Sometimes I am lost, but I know a flower’s perfume as I lay on the beach.
Painting is a bridge between worlds, a reminder, a pointer, a sign, a messenger, a call, a shadow, a hint, a promise, an echo, a scent of something beyond our everyday senses.
Even the great Aristotle, founder of the mimetic theory of art, a sorry misinterpretation of which is claimed as the basis of all realist styles, said that it is a poor artist indeed who can merely copy nature.
My canvases dream and dream again, follow the rivers of their desires, their loss, their arrogance, their loves, their disasters. Mountains sing while horses weep; who knows their secrets?
What is wealth without a soul? Painting is here to remind us where to look, how to look, how to move between seen and unseen, move without time, A painting plays out its ambitions on a surface, collapsing down into the limits of materiality, to two dimensions [any further and it would be no more than a straight line]. In silence lies painting’s strength.