When I paint, time and space disappear. I disappear.

I paint to lose myself. Even more so, I paint to find myself, to truly reconnect to center. When I paint, I am at peace. By being with the raw energy and emotion in my body, my relationship to the world around me is lost. Hours can pass effortlessly.

For me, painting is pure freedom. I never know what is going to happen. There is nothing pre-meditated about my process. Merely a meditation in motion: an exploration of feeling, manifest into form. Time stops. The heart talks. Sensation stimulates the selection of color, and the action of applying paint (or other medium) to the canvas happens the way the body wants.

It’s about deep listening: listening and responding. Listening to the canvas and the paint. Although I occasionally use a brush, more often  I prefer a pour, a splatter, a palette scraper, or a butter knife, perhaps a spoon to scoop gold dust off the moon. The free-flow, organic dance of color, texture and form fascinates.  My body, simply a tool for transportation as the acrylic, polymer, liquid love does the rest.

The exhilaration of applying paint to canvas is bliss. It’s the spontaneous, serendipitous, synchronistic, abstract expressionistic, let-it-rip moments of cathartic self-care taking me there….where the chills ripple goose bumps up the spine and down appendage to finger tip and that’s it.