Let me tell
you some of the history of my thinking and a little bit about why I approach my
visual process the way that I do.
For as long as I can remember I have had a
sense that there is more to this world than meets the eye. Sometimes I get a
hint, a glimpse out the corner of my eye, a ghost of something. Our eyes are
the gateway to our concept of reality. What you see is what you get, right? They
faithfully transmit to our brain and ta-da- we have our picture. But when you
think about it, our eyes only discern a fraction of the light wave. What about
the part we don’t see. Does that mean it
doesn’t exist?
Animals
sense things that we do not. Some see better with their ears, or their skin.
And plants don’t have eyes at all. Imagine for a minute what the world is like
to a fish, or a 300 year old tree, or a 3 week old butterfly. I think about that a lot. I especially think
about how birds see reality. They exist among us in a world of their own, with
their own unique agenda and cycles.
So here’s
the big question: Are birds in our world or are we in theirs?
I am
concerned about how we modern humans seem to feel separate from nature. After
all, we are a part of nature as much as any animal or plant, but we don’t seem
to know it. Or maybe we just don’t remember.
We have separated ourselves with our inventions and human constructs.
This body of
work you see tonight reflects my investigation into the hidden connections and
tensions between humans and the rest of nature.
The first
bird to enter my paintings was a great blue heron. There are many herons along
the Umpqua where I live. At some point I began to consider how herons are
virtually the same today as they existed thousands of years ago before the
human species came along. That is not hard to believe if you’ve ever heard
their croak. These patient still watchers became the voice of nature in my work.
After while fish
began migrating through my paintings, just as they migrate through the river by
my studio. In thinking about the endless wheel of seasons and the bird and fish
migrations my sense of time has shifted. The natural world is full of these
quiet and ancient cycles that have become a symbol for me of longevity, history
and the primal power of nature.
My most
recent paintings have focused on wetlands. Watching birds has drawn me to these
primitive stops on the annual bird migration routes. They are the fragile
watering holes and nurseries for so many organisms. And often they are the
flood control for streams and rivers. Yet they are so easy to zoom by in a car. It is tempting to think of these essential
places as less than desirable land, buggy bogs that should be altered in some
way.
I ask a lot
of questions in my work, and I offer no answers. There is no correct way to
interpret one of my paintings. My hope is that you will be able to enter a
piece with a little of yourself and find your own meaning. And through my
process I like to think that I have honored our fellow travelers on this
planet.
