True art has no relation to the validity granted to it by critics. One can only create an honest vision when they are not concerned with judgments passed by onlookers. It is all too easy under such pressures to succumb to cliches and simply replicate successful brands of someone else’s art. My own respect is reserved for the brave few who stray from what an artist is supposed to be. They are the innocent and obsessive, influenced only by their own need to speak visually. The burden of daily life for the artist is keeping their own vision pure while studying art, listening to the teachings of others, and developing a deep knowledge of materials. It seems that these principles combined with a need to express meaningful individual experiences is what makes Great Art.
To inventory my own sources of inspirations would be impossible. I am mostly influenced by close observation of everyday life. The relationship of the unknown stranger to their surrounding environments (especially when detached from social situations) is continually forming my work. I prefer to paint the solitary figure. Maybe because only in my own isolation can I respond so intuitively to my chosen media. When knowingly unregulated and uninspected I can bend concept and memory, forming a harmonized yet captivating composition. The quiet of my studio gives me the confidence to work through my own experiments, and not stop until I alone am satisfied. Seclusion comforts my process and fills my body of work.
My ultimate goal in painting is to execute a silent conversation between my subjects and the future viewer. I aim to have my paintings read not like a book, but like a thoroughly examined foreigner. Their moody forward stare, the mysterious setting, and the carefully selected color palette gives a complexity of feeling to each piece. I meticulously compose each painting like a theatrical director, organizing the staging and lighting to mirror real moments, but leaving it all too dreamlike to be completely nostalgic. In addition to documenting the feeling of a remote human figure, the act of painting offers me relief. It carries a load of frustrations, and articulates my struggle for balance. Finished paintings only appear when the right portions of lights and darks, detail and emptiness, what is seen and what is imagined come together. Exploring our own curiosities and maintaining consistency of vision without resorting to formulaic gimmicks can prove to be a frequent struggle. Art is a fragile and poetic balancing act. When I am able to define myself and my development through delicately tuned colors, lines and shadows, I am an artist.