Each of my paintings, or series of paintings, is its own event, existing in my life for a period of time—most often, a long time—reflecting my commitment to abide in the natural processes of chance, transformation, and impermanence, as these processes manifest in nature and in our lives. I aspire to surrender my ego and its ambitions to the organic growth of each painting. This is my studio practice.

I consider myself an abstract painter. Yet, in my work, references abound to both the seen and the metaphorically unseen in the natural world. My working process is to cultivate and enhance these references through the use of shape, line, color and texture, using joint compound, raw pigment, medium, beeswax, and at times collage.

I make a gesture; I nullify it. I add, subtract, conceal, reveal, wipe out, begin again. Happily, there are accidents and incidents that are created as part of my process. To these, I apply focused activity and development—akin, perhaps, to riffs by a jazz musician. I sit, I look, I ponder. What am I doing here? With this painting? With my life? What does this painting want of me? I see something new, something to do; I load a brush with color and make a mark. And the rondelet begins anew. This is how the work advances. Gradually, arduously, alone in a studio.

I work slowly, interacting with any given day’s developments within the parameters of the painting. Sometimes I’m happy at the end of a day's work; sometimes I’m not. It is just like life, I tell myself, even when I’ve fallen into art hell, and the painting stares at me mutely, undone, day after day. I wait it out, work on something else, even put it away for a while, on occasion, years, until this piece and I are able to regard one another again as friends.

My time with a painting is complete when I have achieved some indescribable, harmonious and dynamic balance between where a piece has taken me and where I have taken it. Each painting, then, is this same search: I have been looking for something.

When I began, it was unknown and unknowable; something indefinable, yet something I trusted I would recognize when it found it. This is the reason I make art. It is a tremendous adventure. I have nowhere to be but here. With each piece, I learn more about who I am.

Practice, Practice, Practice (Self Portrait Number II) 2009
joint compound, raw pigment, glass beads, polymer varnish, Venetian medium
on museum board, mounted on wood panel
8 1/2" x 10 1/2"

The best way to talk about art
is to work

The best way to study art
is to work

The best way to think about art
is to work

[Richard Pousette-Dart; n.k.d.]