When hiking through the woods, up a cliff, or down a stream, I find myself beset with startling and immaculate abstract art that feels like proof that our universe was created on a whim by an infinite mind.
God is an artist of inscrutable humility. He filled the swamps with abstractions that keep morphing, yet never lose the automatic perfection that hands only flirt with in facsimiles so small. The satellites are too far to see this, and the gators are too close.
I’m focusing on making collectible pieces of art to hang in rooms, not images for online consumption. To make the cotton rag prints more special, I’m framing them myself in the finest and longest lasting way I can, and only printing a picture once.
I feel spiritual gratitude and awe when i’m in the woods. It’s very gratifying that my friends will come to see my art shows. But that’s not quite enough. The goal is to make the pictures good enough that people have their own experiences with them, and it’s no longer about me.