I paint large photo-realist acrylic paintings, make native style frame drums, and teach about my Journey Oracle cards, but some of my most fun comes from always trying to make new art. New in every way: new materials, new techniques, new ideas for subjects and ways of working.
This watercolor work was continuously turned in a circle as I painted faces I saw in a stone. A wonderful example of how art changes with one's point of view.
Some of the most exciting, and dangerous, art I have made involved sealing drawings, found objects and extruded letters inside Plexiglas boxes.
This tiny extruded acrylic letter inspired a favorite phrase that I still use when writing my artist's statements: "I feel like a little hook reaching into mystery."
When I learned that throughout history artists have died from toxic fumes, I decided to put down the propane torch and chemical mask, and go for safer materials.
The drawing became beading on a loom, the wood became the frame, and the construction process itself became rain.
While this small acrylic painting seems to echo the painting I do on my frame drums with raw earth pigments, the new art here is the process itself. Lots of different kinds of mark-making materials were smeared around inside a cereal box. While this was drying a slip of paper was drawn from three different piles of nouns and verbs. A section of cereal box was copied and then embellished to become the image for the title made from the three words: Welcome to Swim House. Years later this is still one of the most enigmatic pieces I have ever painted.
Sometimes what makes new art is not doing anything new at all. This accidentally double exposure while on a camping trip became a symbol of Waiting for Apocalypse to me, made all the more potent
with the technology itself as the subject.
I think my favorite way to make new art is to transform something old and damaged into a new form.
This failed drum head became a pen and ink drawing, and then a raw earth pigment painting, and then was sewn inside a warped drum hoop which became filled with turkey feathers. Somewhere in the middle of this process I realized I was creating blood lines, and swimming sperm, and the egg of new beginnings.