Imagine my studio table . . . flat, parallel to the floor. On it I lay a canvas. I draw in a breath. Magic is about to happen. I liquefy, then manipulate a variety of pigments, each one with its own unique chemistry and viscosity: some thick, some thin, some transparent, some opaque. With a puff of air through a soda straw, a push of a palette knife, or a blast from a blow torch, I herd a migration of organic shapes and forms, each with its own direction and intent. Some move in waves, some extend venturesome fingers to explore new space, and some resist. They are alive for a few moments, and I have the joy of watching and assisting their quest for beauty. The final images are organic abstractions of: tree branches, bark peeled back revealing a cellular exploration; bouquets of floral explosions; and waves, with their turbulent swells, dramatic splashes, and swirling spray. The process is a passionate interchange, full of surprises. Images revealed have a spiritual presence. It’s like diving into Nature’s heart and feeling her powerful pulse, then transforming that experience into an artform.