Painting is the third career in my life. The first two, as a musician and then as a developer of internet software, still breathe their influence into my daily studio work. My experiences as a composer left me with very strong sensitivities to rhythm, line, balance, and harmony. These are every bit as much a part of the world of the painting as they are the symphony. Although I no longer compose, I would say that music remains an integral part of my creative process; I cannot paint without my studio being filled with it. In fact, when it is quiet, it feels like a very sterile and vaguely uncomfortable place to be. The nearly dozen years that I spent working as a software engineer have given me a careful, deliberative, and analytical mindset. I find I often apply this thinking while painting, particularly in studying the nature and behavior of light, which, in one limited sense, is what painters really do.

Most of my paintings, and in particular my daily paintings, begin with a moment of connection with a common object or scene: Fundamentally re-viewing something Ie seen around me dozens, maybe hundreds of times, and realizing that it has within it the seed of a work of art. These quiet, peaceful, and intimate moments are for me the essence of what it means to be an artist. They also have a direct bearing on the kinds of paintings I make. Although I love creating landscapes outdoors, and enjoy the occasional challenge of a portrait, it no accident that maybe three quarters of all the pieces Ie ever done have been still lifes. I suppose they are really attempts to hold and savor these moments of mental and spiritual Stillness.