“God, just give it breath,”—my prayer before every piece that I begin.  What I bring to a canvas is an array of thoughts, conditions, and questions, some deeply personal and others widely considered.  Simply put, I bring the “messy humanness” that I wear so well and long to figure out.  But I eagerly grab for the paints, pastels, and miscellaneous tools that turn these loose concepts into images that can breathe—that have “more” to them than me.  I’m inspired by the thought that once I finish my work, the viewer can begin his or hers.  The painting breathes—taking and giving, asking and revealing—much more than I could plan on my own.

These pieces that currently maim my carpet and douse the walls of my tiny apartment, are my outlets for digging deeper, connecting to others further, and living a bit riskier.  I get the privilege of making images, only to see them grow, and continue, and become “more” through the eyes of someone else.

Breathing Things
TOT, June 2014

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