I am driven to make art every day. I need to explore a subject fully and have been known to read every book that was ever written about a particular historical event or famous figure from the recent or distant past.
This, I believe, is the obsessive personality trait that leads me, in my art, to tunnel into a subject until it is completely exhausted resulting in many variations on a theme as I search for the primal kernel of my experience.
I believe my motivation comes from long ago because, as a child, I led an isolated life.
My solitary childhood provided material for a lifetime bubbling over with thoughts and ideas. I believe that rather than thwarting my creativity it fertilized and cultivated my need to open up and share a magical world populated to overflowing with fanciful images.
As the product of that time and place I am grateful, indeed, to have had the upbringing that, in large part, made me the artist I have been my entire life.
In my work, I construct the faces of the happy and scary dreams, fairy tales and nursery rhymes that were conceived in my head. Nurtured in the internal space of my solitude as a child. They continue to venture forth one by one and I am always happily surprised. As an artist, I take the raw material, rearrange the cosmos of my imaginary firmament and construct new universes.
Smiling expressions belie the deep wistfulness within the faces of Earthkins. One openly beams, another has a shy secret. Behind the masks, the eyes appear happy but their souls are locked away. They crave attention whoever they are; brown, black, green, yellow, purple, blue, rosy-skinned, dark skinned.
I have no preconceived idea of the final result, Earthkins create themselves. I am the instrument of their actualization. One of the special delights for me it is when the work begins to take on a life of its own, in some sense similar to the shock and delight Geppetto must have experienced when Pinocchio became a real boy.