Thoughts, patterns and motions embed themselves in the back of my mind constantly. Although I never know what they would emerge as, everything I sensed i.e. heard, saw, smelled, touched, tasted and felt always influenced the outcome. I found a friend in oil paints, its stifling smell of linseed oil and turpentine and all. The paintings that followed my textured paintings had all that I sensed, from listening to Paddy talk about water habitats to the way I felt conflicted and safe at the same time to watching the sun trying to peek out at down from behind the cumulonimbus at dawn. Colour has become my language and the brush strokes my words but the intensity of the unknown that lies beneath the surface has baffled me.
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| Fire and Ice?? |
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| Fishy Business |
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| The Morning's here... |
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