It’s actually hard to say where these paintings begin because they come from such a deep part of me, from a connection with and respect for this land, from the life I’ve been exploring since coming here. I am different because of this place. Perhaps the paintings begin there—in that difference. But, at least on the surface level, they begin with the grasses.
I wanted to write something about the native grasses but, the fact is, that’s not what’s important to me. That’s not why grass has found its way into my work. It’s in it because I love these wheat-colored stands of straw that are a constant for me here—on my land, on my walks. And, truth be told, I choose them for their beauty. Pure and simple. I pick the grasses that, to me, are prettiest. I may be using native grasses. In fact I probably am. But that’s of no matter to me. It is their beauty that compels me, that has drawn my eye since first coming here. Perhaps, in a way, they represent my own wild nature—untamed, weedy, but at the same time, taking solid root. The grass and I are connected in this simple, hardy way. Is it any wonder it has found its way into my work?
I have written about these grasses before in a previous post: Artist Materials From the Land.