Sometimes in my work, after a painting rests awhile, it calls for something else and the result for me is a kind of visual poetry or collage. There is a cadence to the work. It feels otherworldly and seems to take on a life of it’s own. Some people call this flow; some call it inspiration. I’m not sure what I call it but it seems pregnant and full of possibility. I liked these paintings before; they felt fresh and alive. Now they seem mature and full, as if they’ve the capacity to hold and embrace the weight of living. Perhaps that’s what age does for some people. It’s certainly something to think about.