I have to surrender to the unruly medium of encaustic. Like sailor to sea, I make peace with it.
This body of work is not just about the translucency, light, and movement of the wave; but that too. It is about transiency. The existence of a wave is really a fiction, a beautiful fraud. There cannot be a stop-motion wave caught in time; as soon as the wave exists, it changes, moves on.
You've never seen paintings like these. And yet if, like me, you live to be near water, there is often an instant familiarity and sustained connection with my waves.
I like to paint with traditional materials in new ways and believe it is best for the subject to dictate the medium and the handling of that medium. My desire to paint this body of work brought me to the difficult and generally underachieving medium of encaustic.
Now, with years of experimentation and practice, I can get the encaustic paint to rise to the challenge of the water: to produce the transient or translucent effects I seek.
There is a materiality to my paintings. My process and studio practice is messy. Gravity is engaged. Pigment is poured, blown, and manhandled. Patterns evoking the sea, sand and sky emerge and I coax them, exploiting the materials to my end. Color and form become sea foam carried by the wind or the purposeful movement within a wave.
This body of work has held my interest longer and with greater intensity than any other. Part of that is due to the long and deep investment I've made in teaching myself to paint this way. But the wave has me by the throat and socks me in the gut as a metaphor for change in life and its potential for great beauty and peace.