The art of imagination

Artists open our eyes to the world around us—objects, people, and nature—in new ways. They reveal parts of us that were previously unnoticed. They challenge us, entertain, and amuse us. They turn canvases into confessionals, revealing their inner selves—their emotions, fears and joys. There are no formulas or guidelines. There are no rules. Whatever an artist’s intention, the canvas does not judge, it is simply available to what the artist desires to do.

         So, with canvas and paint before me, where do I begin—with a thought, an object, a detailed plan? Painting is not a casual affair with a canvas; it is an intentional encounter. A blank canvas entices. It beckons paint to its exposed surface, inviting colors to move freely, to mix and mingle. But its empty whiteness also intimidates. It demands something from the painter. Whether gently or with passion, the canvas asks that the artist apply the paint with purpose and meaning and respect. I am drawn with brush in hand to the purity of the canvas, but I pause for a moment reluctant to spoil the white expanse too hastily, too casually.

         I begin simply. Too grand a vision—wanting to say everything all at once— opens too many potential starting points and trajectories, frustrating the process. I begin with a memory of something encountered in nature—a scene, an organism, a small, isolated component of some biological system. I remember experiences and emotions, then extract from it what I find intriguing and manageable. I think about forms and colors, imagining them interacting and flowing across the canvas. I begin painting and the canvas fills with color. I carefully observe the painting as it comes alive, giving the composition permission to follow its own path. Like a jazz musician, improvising within the constraints of my craft.

         What is my intention as a painter? My work is not didactic, but I hope my paintings captivate the imagination and elicit a reaction. Mine is the art of imagination, the abstraction of color, form, and movement. Mine is abstract art—visual poetry.

Peace . . .