The creation of an art piece is a unique experience. It’s very personal. When I’m submerged in a drawing the only things that exist to me are the pencils, the paper, the subject matter, and my thoughts.

My thoughts tend to flow pretty freely while I’m drawing so later when I look at a finished piece, even if it’s been years since I completed it I remember what I was thinking about and how I felt when I was drawing it. I even sometimes remember exact phrases of thought that came to me when working on a particular part of a painting.

While I was drawing my sister in alone again memories of times that we’ve spent together, good and bad kept coming into my mind. She’s one of my best friends and has always been there for me no matter what and now when I look at the painting all of that comes back to me. So to say that I put myself into my work is to speak quite literally.

It’s an interesting thing to give something that is so personal to the world. It’s strange to lay it before their eyes and let them judge it as they do. Whether they like the piece or not, either way it feels strange. An artist has to learn to let go of a picture that is finished and embrace the one that is before them. It’s actually kind of nice, rythmic in a way.

I’ve been thinking about choices today. Everything we do, say, think, believe is a choice. No one can take away our right to choose. That’s what being human is all about. Choices. Choosing who we’ll be. Choosing every day, every minute what kind of person we want to be. What’s interesting is it doesn’t matter who you chose to be in the past. What matters is who you choose to be today, and who you will be tomorrow. That which we choose to give our time and thoughts to will define us. It’s not easy to make choices that will help us to grow and give us strength but the struggle is part what will sculpt us into that which we are striving to become. Ya, just some random thoughts.

Someone once told me that realism isn’t art. The artist is just copying what’s already there and  is therefore not expressing themselves. I’ve heard this a lot since then and I would just like to take a moment to tell you how I feel.

I express myself through realism. Many artists express themselves beautifully through abstract or impressionistic work but I don’t. I feel unfulfilled when I attempt these styles. I love realism. It’s hard to do. It’s labor intensive and takes hundreds of hours of my life. My back aches at the end of the day but when I see what I’ve accomplished I smile.

Realism allows me to share with the world my love for people, for nature, for animals, for life. It allows me to say what I don’t know how to say with words. If you want to know how I feel about mankind, look into the eyes of The Soldier’s Father. If you want to know why I can’t bring myself to harm even a fly look at the Little Red Squirrel and see the little paws and eyes and ears that took so many hours of my life. See what I see when I look at the almost magically beautiful world around me. This is who I am. This is how I experience life and realism allows me to share that with you. I am filled with gratitude and wonder that I have been given the opportunity to experience life and I hope my art speaks this to you.

Sometimes I feel like I can fly. When I’m out alone in a beautiful field of grass or at the top of a great mountain that I just spent hours climbing I feel like I could just spread my arms and soar to the clouds.

Maybe I do fly. When I’m running down the mountain as fast as I can go I swear I’m flying. It’s like I don’t even have feet, like I’m just part of the wind. Ya, maybe I do fly. Cool.