Artist Statement
Over the years I have come up with a number of characterizations for my art, both visual and written. At one time it was blunt enigma. Then it was a play on con artist. Later I called myself a conceptual wildlife artist. I've forgotten many others. None trapped the bug in amber.
I still sometimes use the handle wildlife artist, even though it is sardonically applied and usually has a contradictory modifier like domesticated.
Much of my work is, in a sense, conceptual, but it is a visually realized concept. I do the work for the viewer, and the viewer can add or subtract, get it or like it or not. But I'm also dedicated to making purely visual discoveries. There is an allure to trying to understanding how the human brain sees--that is, makes an image of an image in the brain. Or are images only in the brain, with no objective form? I hold an odd faith that a truly original marriage of art and science can make a new contribution to that understanding.
Finally, there is psychological impact. In this day and age, the pure physical presence of a work of art is easily shattered into digital fragments posing as the whole. Witness this web site. But the in-person experiencing of art is a different animal than the virtual experience. Physical presence takes up real space that you can walk up to and co-occupy. Strong art, like a glance at the sun, casts an afterimage, a ghost memory that burns indefinitely in your mind. This process happens most powerfully in person. But for side-long glimpses at what an artists does, I suppose a web site is fine.
I still sometimes use the handle wildlife artist, even though it is sardonically applied and usually has a contradictory modifier like domesticated.
Much of my work is, in a sense, conceptual, but it is a visually realized concept. I do the work for the viewer, and the viewer can add or subtract, get it or like it or not. But I'm also dedicated to making purely visual discoveries. There is an allure to trying to understanding how the human brain sees--that is, makes an image of an image in the brain. Or are images only in the brain, with no objective form? I hold an odd faith that a truly original marriage of art and science can make a new contribution to that understanding.
Finally, there is psychological impact. In this day and age, the pure physical presence of a work of art is easily shattered into digital fragments posing as the whole. Witness this web site. But the in-person experiencing of art is a different animal than the virtual experience. Physical presence takes up real space that you can walk up to and co-occupy. Strong art, like a glance at the sun, casts an afterimage, a ghost memory that burns indefinitely in your mind. This process happens most powerfully in person. But for side-long glimpses at what an artists does, I suppose a web site is fine.