As an artist, certain qualities of our world look so beautiful to me that I am inspired to paint them; I can't name the quality exactly, but I know it when it presents itself. It can be an ethereal sunset or the cathedral heights of a redwood grove. It could be the way light plays up the subtle color variations of white plumage or the elegant line of a creosote pylon standing in rippled water. It might be the sensuous curve or saturated color of a common vegetable, or the flavor of a place or culture. Sometimes it is the irony of relationships or perhaps the feeling of a moment. My one constant is technique; I work almost exclusively in watercolor and have no white or black on my pallet. I mostly work from photos and start with an accurate as possible drawing. While I pay close attention to basic rules of drawing, I also exaggerate certain features and have a tendency to stylize my line. What happens next can best be described as play: I splash and smudge, bleed and blend. I leave small holes in color fields and estimate details. I am completely lost in the moment. I know a piece is done when I stand across the room and get a feel for a realistic scene or object — because up close, it makes no sense at all.