When I was a boy, my dad’s work caused our family to move around a lot so we were never able to put down roots in any one place. It’s hard to make or sustain friendships when every couple of years you find yourself in a new neighborhood, a new school, and a new city. Back then I was always off alone drawing or designing elaborate scenes for my toys to populate. But now as I look back on that time, I can see that though I often felt lonely and isolated, I was also becoming self-reliant, self-confident, and comfortable being with myself.  

 

The subjects in my paintings reflect that sense of isolation I felt as a child. That aloneness. The faces of the characters I create on canvas are deliberately hard to read. They may appear expressionless at first glance. But the question of what they might be thinking or feeling is actually the point of the painting. The mystery is the objective. Are they vulnerable or strong? Are they anxious or at peace? Are they lonely or only alone? Can we know? 

 

I work in acrylic on canvas. Usually, I begin with a very quick small and scratchy sketch with pen on paper. I don’t labor over this initial drawing — I want the energy to go into the painting itself. As I paint some works appear under my brush in what seems like a flash. The finished painting emerges in a matter of days. Other canvases cause me to question why I even started the piece. I’ll struggle and repeatedly consider ending my misery by tossing the mess out the door before wrenching something out of me that I’m satisfied with.