"Garlic Soup" selected for exhibit

I am honored to have my work selected for inclusion in the Arterra showroom in Bellevue, Washington. Carol Anderson and her team of art consultants are among the best in the industry. The large showroom is full of work by the most sought-after artists in the region. Arterra sells only to designers and architects, with projects ranging from residential to hospitals, hotels and corporate collections.

Garlic Soup

"Garlic Soup" (72" x 36") 2008 encaustic, mixed media on wood.

This is my first really large encaustic with deeply inscribed words. The text begins with the latin for the various species of allium. When it gets to the allium name for garlic, the text becomes a recipe for garlic soup. (you can actually make soup from the recipe carved into the panel). After the soup recipe is complete, the text turns into a quote from Georgia O'Keefe about how people will bring their own meanings with them when they view an image of a flower. And then it ends with some simple suggestions about the proper growing of allium. From a distance, the viewer may not even realize the text is there, as it just appears as texture. As you get closer, the marks start to form into recognizable letters. If you take the time to look at the painting longer, the letters become words. It's really interesting to watch people as they view the work and move towards a greater understanding of the entire panel. Its not necessary to read the painting to enjoy it, but it gives it another layer of depth.


Above is a detail from Garlic Soup.

the meaning of the paintings

Each painting is a collaboration with a multitude of contributors. For example, my eye sees one thing, and my mind interprets what the eye sees in a completely different way. Then the hand takes over and constructs, or deconstructs, the thing in it's own way. And the result becomes something entirely unique and different from the original subject. All the different body parts work with each other and against each other to create the final product.

Then someone looks at the finished painting and changes its meaning once again. I thought I knew what the painting meant. But when I hear someone else put their own words and thoughts and meanings into it, I think to myself 'yes, thats what it means'. And its all so different from what I thought I intended.

The painting is allowed to continue to evolve without my hand or mind or eye coming in contact with it at all.

May at the studio

" the earth laughs in flowers." - e.e. cummings



Life has been creatively chaotic here at the studio this Spring.

Lucky Bamboo is a large (65" tall x 36" wide) encaustic painting. There is deeply-carved text rising from the bottom edge of the painting, imitating young bamboo growing from the ground. Here's what it says:

"The normal habitat of dracaena sanderiana is the floor
of a tropical rain forest. It is used to getting very little light.
But it likes its feet wet.
Lucky bamboo actually grows straight
and does not grow curly or wavy at all.
Farmers have to lay them on a huge long slanted table
in the hot house, covering three sides in darkness,
one side exposed to bright light.
It takes an average of one to one and one-half years
to make a single 360-degree curl.
After many dark damp days of winter, the sun appears.
Spinning magnetically to the light, her face turns toward the warmth
taking the body with it.
When we change a thing, it in turn changes us."

Standing Tulip, (70" tall x 36" wide) is another large encaustic panel. This piece took about 4-weeks to complete, continually constructing, then deconstructing the form. There are at least 16 layers of wax...and multiple layers of oil paint glazes.


Tulip Canvas (70" tall x 63" wide) is a work-in-progress. This piece is oil and charcoal on canvas. The canvas is stapled directly to my studio wall. I don't plan to take the level of finish too much farther, and I'm currently experimenting with some mixes of cold wax to rub into the surface for added depth as well as protection.

I hope you enjoy our beautiful late-Spring.