"It is more important to me that a painting raises questions than answers them. When I am drawn to a painting, be it mine or someone else's, and find myself wonrdering, marveling, and puzzling, I feel engaged. I like to feel included in an imaginative dialogue with an artwork rather than merely be a passive reader of the imagery. Often, the most alluring aspects of an artwork for me are areas that are indistinct, blurry, or lost in shadow, where my mind tries to fill in the blanks. The two questions I hear most about my paintings are "What is it called?" and "What does it mean?" It may sound trite, but my usual response is, "Well what does it mean to you?" Once my painting is varnished, framed, and hung on a wall, it is, to a large degree, out of my hands. I said what I needed to say within the visual confines of the canvas. It must speak for itself. In my paintings, I hope I have built a worthy springboard for your imagination and sown the seeds of mystery to flower in your mind."
"Bacon got it wrong. Nothing can deepen mystery, and I assume that we are talking about "The Mystery" and not what's in the special sauce. Mystery is deep enough. There is no way to deepen it. We cannot know its depth or breadth. As I see it, some art may emerge and be a result of that. I choose to allow my work to arise from and be driven by the Mystery. That is, the big Mystery, coupled with my own private enigmas. I personally prefer the free fall into that Mystery even though it cannot be spoken of or named. It can be quite unsettling. After all, Gauguin nailed it while in paradise: "Where do we come from? what are we? Where are we going?" Just unplug and pay attention. The mystery is always there."