On the origin of the work on this website
When I was little, my mother would often to paint while she kept an eye on my brother and I playing in the yard. Much much later, when she was stricken with Alzheimer’s, as the fog oblivion slowly erased her memory and her identity, I would sit and draw with her for hours. We drew little worlds together, worlds through which we could both escape the walls of the sordid hospital where she was confined. She had not been able to recognize me for a couple of years by then, but she could still recognize shapes and sometimes even faces in the mess of lines and colors. Every time she did, she would shout out with pleasure. It made us both very happy.
All the while, a new adventure began in the studio, which was filling up with hundreds of little 4 x 6 inch paintings inhabited by discrete yet dense crowds. To make them out is to recognize them. It’s as if, by the grace of the mysterious alchemy of the creative process, the emergence of imagined worlds was forging a path for the silent grieving by repopulating my mother’s lost memories.
I began understanding that memory, imagination, and identity where inextricably linked.
I'm somehow still painting with and for her. Sharing them with you is just a way of giving them a life of their own, and of letting go…