My early summers were spent on the St. Clair River, a narrow body of water separating Michigan from Canada. I may not remember everything from those years, but I can still hear the rain on the water as a storm comes in, and the muffled horns of the freighters. Several summers ago, I drove from Bozeman, Montana down to Yellowstone National Park. That night at sunset, the smoke from the fires on the Gallatin mountain range fused the evening sky with the land below.
Past travels and experiences such as these inform my current work. But memory is delicate and random, seldom clear or complete. As there is often a gap between an actual experience and the recollection of it, I give only a partial description. Layering pigment in both oils and encaustics works to obscure the image, to disrupt the legibility of detail. The atmospheric images explore what is forgotten, and what still demands our attention despite the passage of time.
