My life as an artist began in a little river town named Argentine, Kansas, a town filled with Santa Fe railroaders and modest bungalows. My seed of art was birthed in my little bedroom when I was grounded after breaking one of Mom’s house rules — I was in there often. 

However, I relished my time in solitude. I could daydream, imagine how pretty dandelions would be in rainbow colors and wonder how many four-leaf clovers were lurking in the back yard waiting to be plucked. In lieu of a sketchbook, I would use my diary pages to draw scenes of my backyard: steel garbage cans against our whitewashed fence, Dad’s tomato garden, the rusty push-lawn mower and the apple tree I would climb. With each bite into an apple’s red flesh, I would notice every color. No one told me art could be my life. 

“What is it?” I am often asked about my abstract art. 

“It’s what you want it to be.” I answer. 

I want the viewer to be involved and use his or her own wonderment and insights for what it might be. 

I believe in the power of the flow, the zone, and the unconsciousness for creation. It could be another dimension or another universe to which we travel. Whatever it is, it is a great power for me. You never know when it will “hit” but when it does — you know. This “flow” releases my brain’s unspoken illusions and releases my reality onto the canvas, using colors, forms, images, light and emotion. 

I paint with acrylics and watercolor using brushes, fingers, rags and about anything else I can get my hands on. I feel the process is just as important as the art. Working on large canvases enables me to be less inhibited and freer with my strokes and allows me to become the “Alpha Dog” that is in command of the canvas. Like a child, I love mixing bold primary colors and seeing bursts of kaleidoscope pigments break free to morph into extraordinary colors. 

Art is my adventure of life. . .