page 1 of 3This new work reflects the influences of a year of waiting and looking and more waiting for a new beginning somewhere. It is just the beginning of the beginning. After four years of painting the birds it became very clear to me that that story had run its creative course. For the first time since grad school, ten years ago, I found my self in that terrifying place where there is, seemingly, nothing within. Empty, void, silence. In the absence of a voice through which to paint I found my self obsessively collecting fabric of all things, and dreaming of squares and rectangles in quiet geometric order while at the same time gathering to me, and tearing up paper (into smaller rectangles), wall paper, paper of all kinds including brown grocery bags, news print, old books especially of the instructive kind., and old photographs of everything from cowgirls to burning buildings to old images of Canadian culture. My studio filled up with drywall compound, mesh tape, varathane and varnish and old painted plywood. Having no clear vision, only unexplained obsession, I continued to trust this would all come to something. These new works are the beginning of that something. Eventually one gives in to the voice that is telling you to pour bleach and strong tea on Manila paper and this will be a good thing.