About the Artist

My first serious attempt at drawing was copying the Time magazine cover portraits which won rave reviews from my family. Biased, but affirming all the same. Drawing was  a way of standing out, apart from my five siblings. It made me feel special in a crowd.

I then moved on to sports figures and sports action shots. My fascination with the human form was kindled at this time. But, unfortunately I chose to attend a trade high school which didn't stress fine arts. Disillusioned, with the curriculum, I took art classes at the Toledo Museum of Art on saturdays. The class was boring and I didn't try to find another class that would have been more stimulating. Insecure, with a youth's lack of vision and fear of asking for help, I couldn't see how to take my avocation and make it my vocation. As I worked at many different jobs( delivery, construction, retail ), I forgot my talent and my passion. Little did I know that it would be almost fifteen years until I would again seriously pursue art.

Then , in 1985, through a handbill at a frame shop in Hollywood, Florida I learned of an art school that had very talented teachers, Elliot Porter, David Birmingham and Roberto Martinez and taught the fundamentals of fine art. After borrowing the first years tuition from my parents, at age 32, I enrolled at the South Florida Art Institute. Because of their philosophy on color mixing, I had to give up my primary medium of pastel, and learn color mixing in oils which I later learned enhanced my pastel mixtures. Those days were pure happiness, even though I had to work and go to school, I felt I was finally doing something I was perfectly suited for. After three years I was back to working in pastel.

It was at this time I started working en plein air in pastel. Using what I could glean from the masters Liotard, De La Tour, and Chase, I developed an approach to pastel where I worked " dry-into-dry". That is, through smudging or working one color over another, another layer, I could achieve a freshness , a vitality to the colors. Also using Sargent's theories on the importance of precise middletones took me to new realms. This approach also lends itself to work in oils which is fortunate because five years ago I suffered a rotator cuff injury to my right shoulder. Due to the vigorous style of applying pastel which puts pressure on the shoulder, I decided to turn to oils which do not require that pressure of application. Now I switch between pastels and oils without losing a step.

Ever since art school I have been working en plein air in order to study the effects of natural light firsthand. This kind of experience is invaluable in that it informs the resulting work with an emotional element that can't be had any other way. In working en plein air, the artist works from " best evidence", with nothing between his eye and the subject. Its challenging and frustrating, working in a controlled frenzy as the sun travels across the sky acting as a timer to tell when you have to stop. For me, it is only possible to work on a plein air composition for an hour and a half before the lighting has changed too drastically to continue. That is why I go back to the same setting at the same time of the day for two to three weeks to work in hour and a half increments until I am satisfied that I have rendered, not just the "look"of a particular place  but the experience of it, the feel of it. This "experience", this sense of place, is what I strive for but only rarely does the result convey my true experience. But even through countless  "near misses", I enjoy the journey.

I often ask myself why I paint, why I draw. It's something deeper than to just make money, gain attention , or create decoration. There's a need to connect with the world around me that I sometimes feel like an outsider from.

Or maybe as Greta Campbell, the artist, said " I intend to find out something of the nature of the world through seeing. Or maybe I only intend to prolong my delight in seeing"

I relish the challenge of plein air work with its premium on economy an efficiency of effort, decisive action, and steely focus. I feel very alive when I am engaged in a conversation with myself while I'm painting. Part confrontational, part questioning, part consoling, an inner voice guides me. My painting conscience that misses little and praises sparingly. It is equally irritating and relentless, punishing when ignored.

In painting outdoors you run the gamut of emotions. Adrenalin rushes, cursing,  jerky stops and starts, sweating and frustration - and these are the high points. But you also have the knowledge that there are no excuses because you have before you the "best evidence". The best source available - nature. The color, the light engulfs you, entering your very pores. If you're lucky, work faithfully and hard, you might get to the point of, not just seeing, but feeling color. At this level when you put down a false stroke, it physically hurts like a musician hitting a wrong note.