Making art is an intuitive process. Arguably one’s intuition is more critical when making “abstract” works — when one probes and explores the unseen realities and attempts to make them visible. I have always trusted my intuition, often times long before I can settle a matter logically or with concrete evidence. One reason I trust my intuition is that I train it. Part of the training involves developing daily routines that are meaningful and enriching. Every day I read or listen to a significant lecture or presentation. I then carve out time to ponder it l and draw out the truth. I hike every morning in the desert and watch the sunrise. I make art every day. I spend time with that art — studying and pondering it. I gather my thoughts and write.
I often start making art without a clear direction, allowing compositions to emerge and develop. It is not uncommon for me, after the fact, to observe themes that relate to my daily activities and observations. I was recently pondering a series of works on paper — one shown here. I found them strangely satisfying but was confused as to why. Where did it come from? Why did I feel so strongly about the work? After several days I realized it related to the rock formations I hike past every morning. I have become fascinated by how large stones crack and decay. Pieces often split off and find a resting place around its base. If the rock separates from a cliff it falls into the canyon. These violent events are rarely witnessed, but in the stillness the sense of energy remains. I see that observation being explored and expressed in this series.