It is not a directed act.
It is more loose
and imaginative than that.
When memories flood and the pigments fly
the brain does not really engage in what we may think
is cognitive thought.
Memories kind of take over.
They flow past my thoughts
and enter a zone that I may describe
but will never get it right.
Memories seem to have a force of their own.
They create a gap between what
I want
and what I direct.
Memories create a woven structure
that holds it all up
and gently lets one strand at a time
let go.
My ART is totally
created from memories and brain play
from a glorious set of times
and places that I return to all the time.
It is a woven expression of fibers
that are inside of every thought
and every inspiration.
I do not do it on purpose
or push it into what I do.
It just happens.
And I see it all before me.
It just comes naturally from all of the
wanderings and the pilgrimages
to places that would be uncomfortable for most.
Or too cramped
noisy
primitive
or foreign.
My memories come from such places.
My work reverberates those images
inside me somehow.
And ART just kind of happens.
