I GREW UP IN CANADA, under a big sky and have always felt the formation of clouds, storms, and sunsets up there was similar to the formation of ideas, or impulses, in the creative mind. That turbulence. You don't know how it's going to turn out; but you know it's coming; you can feel it, like an approaching storm. Since much of my art is an attempt to understand my own creativity —why it's happening, what's nudging it along, and what that turbulence feels like— I've been painting skies. But I have a new and unusual technique. I begin with oils and acrylics, painting semi-abstract jumbles on canvas or board. Then I use my camera to explore the work from extreme angels, thereby discovering entirely new horizon lines that I didn't realize existed before. I feel this technique allows me to use perspective twice; once in the initial painting using lines and color, and second time in-camera using angles, cropping, focus, and depth of field. The result are Giclee fine art prints in editions of five only, on equisite Moab Entrada paper or iodized aluminum. Collectors are encouraged to group these in "arrays'' of either 4, 6, 8, 10, 12 or more, as a way to illustrate the ever-changing expanse within the creative mind. I think of them as neuro landscapes, or MRIs of creativity in progress.
