This is a paper painting--watercolor, ink, acrylic, and a bit of pencil. It pretty much says what I feel about art. It is all magic---even the things lying around the studio as in this case: the big bottle and the stick with the taxidermied turkey wings wired onto them. You add pink and its magic.
Everything I make is an epiphany passed on. A telegram, letter, an email to the world in visual form. Reality is illusionistic, or as the spiritual biggies say: it is illusion. I can only talk/paint about it in terms of the magic real of it. The wonderful logical illogic of the event that kisses you in the brain and washes away the scrim of norm.
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