Through the haze

A painting has its own life and direction, its own vitality, its own unique quality.

For me it always begins in a haze, like looking through foggy spectacles. The concept for a piece of work lies hidden in my mind behind a multitude of flash images. I close my eyes and it’s there; and then it’s gone. The image grows, gains impetus, becomes a need to project itself, to become reality. (Sometimes it morphs itself into something else)

That first mark on the canvas or board means nothing. It is a simply a beginning, the start of the journey. The first stroke in an avalanche of movement, of expression towards some intangible end. Strokes, textures, gestures, become a ground to work on. A layer in a process to realization and understanding of what the painting is about. It is a journey of manipulation; a balance of colour, movement and intrigue. Layer upon layer towards an indeterminate resolution.  It is exciting, exhilarating, demanding, consuming. Each day brings a new challenge. How far to go, what to add, what not to add. At some point my involvement decreases as the focus of the work becomes clearer, more defined, the concept becomes a reality. The ‘point’ of the work is reached. Eventually days go by where I hardly touch a work. My perception of what I am seeing before me sits happily with my concept. It is only then that I can rest.