Who can remember the first time they felt the thrill of creating something that was their own? Why was it so important to have that crayon masterpiece receive the place of honor on the refrigerator door? The need to create has always been a driving force for me. The creative process is where I become totally focused, elated, frustrated, and alive.
During many years of study, I have had the opportunity to try a variety of media: oil painting, printmaking, ceramics, etc; but several years ago, when I began working with pastels, it felt like coming home. I was seduced by having an array of luscious colors at my fingertips. I loved the immediacy of picking up a piece of color and putting it down on the page. I loved the tactile connection I had with the work and began to notice that my own energy and emotions seemed to be coming through even though it was not a conscious effort on my part.
My work really has two components: One is the spiritual connection the outdoors holds for me. I am enamored of the sights and sounds of nature: the patterns, the rhythms, the textures, and the almost tangible quality of the light. The other is my enchantment with color. It fascinates me that a certain hue can change depending upon how it is surrounded. I love the richness of deep tones used together. I love the emotion of bright vivid explosions of color and the subtleties of combining softer hues, closely related in value. One mark goes down on the page, which determines the next, and then the next. Gradually, the piece emerges. Sometimes when I stand back from my easel, to see the work in it’s totality, I am surprised by my own creation. It’s as though at some point, the work takes on a life of it’s own. For me, that is the magic of the creative process.