i keep painting because i can't. it's impossible. to look at a landscape with its infinite detail, color and expanse and then, distracted by thought and emotion, to squeeze all of that onto a tiny canvas with the clumsy tool of a paintbrush is simply impossible. there is no end to painting. there is no right, and i find my freedom in that. i love that.
when i paint i am looking for what it is that i am seeing, what i'm feeling, and what i remember. It makes me look harder. i find what's surprising in things and look for the pattern that interests me. i try to work it all out on my canvas until i finally find the rhythm and relationships in those patterns that look like my experience.