I am a process-oriented artist. I begin with whatever I find myself putting on the canvas, the paper, or a new file in Photoshop. I allow the work to evolve, following the energy that is set in motion and begins to build with each new element. I embrace Richard Serra's belief that "work begets work" in all senses of the word.
With the obvious exception of the drawings, the works presented are archival pigment prints. They were created from photographs, paintings, illustrations, drawings and relief prints that I previously made. There is also borrowed imagery that has been photographed or scanned.
The first photograph that I ever took that truly excited me was a patch of light on the wall of my bathroom in Los Angeles as it sneaked through the window shade. The shape was like nothing I had ever seen and when printed it seemed too have dimension, to exist. From that moment on I have been chasing light on walls wherever I go.
Perhaps it is one of the reasons I am drawn to posters and billboards, the more ripped and ravaged the better. I love the element of text and the bold shapes and the memories they stir of the movies of my youth and the actors who peopled them. Marilyn above all.
Not surprisingly, scale has become a critical tool in my process. Garage was the first image I had the impulse to print large. Going from 17” x 22” to over six feet by four feet, it took on a new visual power. There is also the fact that when you enlarge digital file, it often sbegins to pixelate, breaking up into new and unexpected shapes and both blending with and revealing new areas of color previously hidden on the layers below. In my mind it is much like the process of erosion that takes place on outdoor billboards and ageing walls in which both text and image while still remaining decipherable, begin to reveal new meaning as it begins to revert to a kind of glyph.
As I make new work, I have the sense that I am engaging in a dialogue with every artist I have ever admired. Matisse and Rotella seem ever present as I employ Photoshop to tear and cut out and reshape images and areas of color and redeploy them in new compositions entirely divorced from their origins.
I often work in series, one image suggesting the next and then the next. The sequence becomes a record of my process, and at a certain moment, something new emerges and the totality of variations takes on a new meaning.
For me, the moment of choice is everything. Out of all the possibilities that exist at any given moment, why choose to take this photograph as opposed to that at just this moment? Why make a curved line instead of a straight, choose this color instead of that? It is a mystery I have come to embrace and the reason I choose to make art.