Watercolor – This canoe’s spine cracked apart years ago. Her ribs reach out like fingers, but they may be too exhausted to feel the slightest touch, even a touch of sunlight. Birch and willows are only echoes of what remains of her life, and the rivers that cradled her have flowed away. She seems useless. But then flowers emerge from her hull; new life begins.
After many years of painting landscapes and city scenes, curiosity drew me towards the vivid images of my dreams. I was aware of the works of Joan Miró, Max Ernst, Dalí and Paul Delveaux, but only gradually realized that the images that arose in my own sleep were just as worthy of being painted as the scenes I observed during my waking hours. They are formidable challenges to paint, and if I were confined to painting either the waking or sleeping aspects of life, I would paint dreams.