Like many artists, I paint to put some order into a chaotic world. To reach into the turmoil and bring my hand back torn and bloody, dripping with the entrails of the human experience. I paint to climb a little higher on the shoulders of those who went before me, the colorful giants whose voices are silenced by death. The greater balance of time and love that teeters beneath us, swaying under every thought, every voice. "Don't play small," they would say if their lips could speak. "Don't waste time," they would say. I paint to honor the quiet whispers from below, the timeless urgings that rumble beneath the surface of my own skin.