Words and Images in Translation

At times when I am working (especially when I am sitting at the river sketching) words and images are so intimately tied together that it is hard to separate one from the other. The words come to me sometimes from somewhere -- a phrase -- a line fully formed -- and when I write it down the expansion of that line into another and another flows out so smoothly -- so quickly -- it feels as if they have always existed and were simply waiting for me to discover the beginning and tug the line, so to speak, to bring the rest out into the world.

Likewise, the melding of the color of the sky -- be it a colorful sunrise or a grey December morning --and the flow, race, dance of the birds across the sky, then the page, then the canvas when I finally make it into the studio often feels so magically apart from me -- the observer.

I watch, I record, and then when the painting starts a magic that is not at all a piece of me happens. I wish I could explain it better.

Most of my work is done at the river. Watching. Waiting. Recording. My hand may hold the brush and choose the tools of translation but the art is already there -- it too is only waiting to be brought to the light of day.

This is the start of a series of blog posts designed to expound on my process when working on my art. Do you have questions about my process you'd like me to answer in upcoming blog posts? Comment below to let me know!