I am an artist. I do things to transform the surface of blank paper and canvas. I look around and constantly see vistas, close or distant, outer and inner, which capture some part of my sensibility. I find beauty and value in the arrangement of light and shade or in the juxtaposition of colors or in the combination of figures in a landscape. I find meaning in the clench of a hand or the arch of a back. My imagination goes further to create new and abstracted images from the threads of all that is real around me. All of this puts emotion into my work and I record it in a way that has meaning to me.

I use materials filled with pigment and binders — watercolor, oil, pastel, and gouache. The brushes for oils have stiff bristles and those for watercolor are soft and absorbent. I pick up the brush, coat it with water or medium, and dip into one of several palettes of color. In the case of watercolor, I have two palettes – one of transparent colors and a larger one of more opaque, richer colors. I use seven colors in my oil palette and eighteen in my gouache palette. I have honed and refined my palettes in order to have the fewest number of colors to create the broadest range in a painting. For a pastel painting my materials are very different – two hundred or so sticks of pure pigment mixed with chalk held together by a small amount of binder. I have every hue that I can conceivably need at hand to produce the range of color I want in a painting. What fun it is to pick up each stick and make a mark – be it soft, rough, precise or smudged – to achieve the predicted result!

I have painted on the beaches of Hawai’I, the Atlantic cliffs of Portugal, in river canyons of the Montana Rockies and on the boardwalk along the New Jersey shore. I have looked at and described, in paint, colorful scenes in Manhattan, marshlands on Cape Cod and nineteenth-century Viennese apartment buildings. I have created still lifes made up of hibiscus, Chinese pots, violins, Portuguese pastries, hula dolls and Indonesian baskets. And I follow the quiet and constant impulse to paint the internal scenery of my life. I put something back into the world that is positive and vital and which records something of life’s beauty and truth.

Painting is bounded by material and time but is also generated in perfect freedom. It is the best kind of journey — one of discovery. The images I choose are mine. It is a marvelous feeling to see an image coalesce in my mind’s eye, gathering interest and intensity from many indefinable and curious sources somewhere within me. These sources are intensely human. They are things that connect all of us together.