It starts with a dollop...

I drip and drop paint on a regular basis.  I leave the lids off paint.  I don't tighten the lids on containers in the fridge. I use these things so regularly that securing a lid is just an extra step I'd rather skip.  So I spill paint and in my spills I see what can be.  I've learned to accept that spills happen.  No one in my house cries over spilled anything.  It happens, you clean it up, you move on.  This is how I've always been.
My artwork always starts with a dollop of paint, a spill if you will.  It frequently looks like these dollops. I'm endlessly fascinated by the way the paint holds color and the way it resists the knife as I move it into its new form blending shape and color with the other colors on the wood.  Press harder and reveal a deeper layer.  Press lightly and lay it out thick covering previous layers.
As an artist I relate to this on a molecular level.  I see and hear and feel so much.  My art is an extension of me in so many ways:  Pulled thin in places, exposing my heart and my feelings. Pulled thick in others, protecting my heart.

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