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The process of obliteration of formerly crucial elements, replacement, and then further eradication has long been my method of painting. I start with a “normal “ painting but once the picture gets rolling, I build up layers until the surface begins to resemble cracked linoleum. On top of this, some innocent cartoon like images may or may not set up housekeeping. At some point, if I am lucky, I am filled by a lovely warm conviction that it is “done.” I don’t work on it again.

For decades I focused completely on making small clay whistles. They won awards, are in collections world wide, and have been in numerous national and international exhibits and solo shows. I made thousands of them and taught way too many workshops.

My mother a gifted whistle maker, had taught me her craft, When she died, I stepped back, unable to bring myself to even enter my workroom. Life wasn’t entirely flat, but I was unable to work in clay. I made sculptures, mostly large public works, and decided to face my lifelong secret activity, painting. The paintings, for which I felt so ashamed in my youth, now delight and amuse me. They provide an alternate view into the landscapes of the human spirit.

In all my creative work, I attempt to express life’s complexity. Even the smallest whistle is burdened with meanings and symbols. In painting, this is approached through layered, cross-referenced, overlapped and sometimes obliterated images. To some this seems messy and chaotic, to others, perfectly sensible. It affords an idiosyncratic view of the mind, bursting with information, stories, color, and images.