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August 1, ’21

It is true one can be an artist anywhere. Recognition is not included in the equation.

There has only been one thing more important than my work. It is hard for me to believe this even as I write it, but it is true.

The only other thing that has taken priority is living my life in the Western States. That ultimately had to be part of my art making process. Every morning I have awakened in this place of the West, I have been grateful to it deep into my bones. There has never been a regret.

Land – the land. A great painting can buckle my knees and so will the undulating hills of Wyoming that let me know it was once filled with water. I drive through the Great State on it’s sea floor.

New Mexico was my original reason for coming West. I have been short and longer term there, too many times to count. So many elements of that “home” break my heart open continuously.  I always wonder if that will change, now, as I enter my 40th year of treks there, it never does.

Northern Colorado holds the space for me. I suppose it provides some type of perspective. It is most certainly a “middle path” from which to see all directions – East North South West. It challenges me daily in its banality. Any extremes, here, are made of the time more than what is of its nature. Locally, everything is “good enough” but rarely superior. This grates on me the most. Few are driven with a personal vision, most visions here are borrowed from others. 

This exact place is the most antithetical to my nature, yet I am still here. Have I learned anything in the last 20 years about living on the middle path? Is there some sort of lesson that I must learn?

An extreme can be no extreme. Similar to Gertrude Stein’s “No there there”. This translates as there is nothing else but this, as is, so be it.


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