Silence is a rare commodity in our fast-paced society. We live in a loud culture, filled
                    with noises of all kinds, at all times of day. Seldom is there a gap between sounds; and, if
                    anything, it seems that we're becoming more uncomfortable with quiet, not less. Some
                    are even anxious with lulls in conversation, filling up with small talk if a pause lasts "too
                    long." So then, perhaps silent places don't really exist, except in our imaginations and in
                    images like those on this website and at my exhibitions. Occasionally, even I feel
                    compelled to agree, especially when cars constantly roar by my studio window.

                    In defining the word "silent", Merriam-Webster OnLine mentioned two things that
                    caught my attention. First was the Gothic meaning "to cease, to grow calm." The other
                    was the interpretation indicating that silence "implies a habit of saying no more than is
                    needed." The former entry works for me because I feel a sense of calm in the silence.
                    Whether getting up at 4 a.m. when everyone else is in bed, working alone in my studio,
                    or laying awake listening to the quiet before sleeping, I live for moments where sound is
                    virtually absent, or at least reduced to minimal levels. This silence is what I try to build
                    into each painting, because I'm convinced it's valuable and worth sharing. It's here
                    where we may find ourselves.

                    The latter phrase, about saying no more than needed, describes my approach to painting.
                    What I choose to leave out of a picture is at least as important as what I put in. My art
                    typically does not feature a lot of detail or decorative elements. I intend, rather, to
                    describe memories, feelings, a sense of time and place, and my impression of the
                    transformative nature of light. As much as I'm personally drawn to look at (and
                    sometimes even savor) textures and patterns, I find their inclusion in my paintings only
                    takes away from the clarity of it's expression, and distracts me---as if it's a kind of visual
                    "noise."

                    Clarity, I think, has the potential to result from encounters with silence. By eliminating
                    audible distractions to the highest degree possible, we can focus better, and experience
                    and interpret more fully, what we see, feel and think. I often wonder what the collective
                    effect our silent moments would have on our turbulent world. I know what it does for me
                    personally, and my goal is to impart my resulting feelings to you, through these paintings.
                    My hope is that the experience leads you to connect with the place in you that
                    understands---and craves---silence. May you find it a place worth visiting often.