I’m a landscape painter residing in rural Connecticut. Yet my work depicts a rougher, more barren, storm-battered topology found in remote locations. These undisturbed places seem to dissolve time where nature’s force is unfiltered and takes me in.

Each work is triggered from the rush of sensations felt out on the land – and expanded back in the studio from initial sketches and charcoal explorations. Painting soon becomes a confluence of terrains simultaneously seen and remembered, familiar yet mysterious. It extends beyond the confines of physical presence to that which is “untamed and intractable.”

Memory and mood combine through fast application of paint in the final work – always surprising me by the new life it takes on. Details disappear from the original site, but the emotional intensity first experienced keeps pushing the paint.

It should be landscape, but it’s paint; it should be paint, but it behaves like weather; a few more strokes and I’m taking another direction. I shift things, and things shift me. When I finish, I’ve gone to a place I’ve never been before, yet as I arrive, it’s a place I seem to know.