Don't get me wrong...I love the Natural Remedy series, but after hours and hours and hours of plants, symbols, and minute details my brain needed a break...or rather a return to my more typical subject matter: the figure.

It's not necessarily easy to change gears. If you're familiar with how I paint, it usually comes naturally and unplanned. I'll start with a vague idea or concept, but the specifics all come about on their own. When you've been doing the same thing for months, your muscle memory takes over whether or not you want it to. 

Summer Dance came from this struggle. I wanted something that was energetic and vibrant but i needed to avoid foliage as much as possible. It was just starting to feel lazy. I started with some similar shapes but rather than leaves or petals these became torsos, legs and hips.

To counter the spastic energy of NatRem while keeping a liveliness of its own I went with repetition. This brings the focus to the human form and provides movement in a way that contrasts the chaos of Natural Remedy. It also gave me a focus from early on; something concrete to grab hold of; rather than wondering if it would eventually come together. I focused on keeping the canvas wet to remove a bit of control. Colors mix, edges blur; all the stuff that didn't happen when working with acrylic pens for NatRem.

I don't usually start a painting with a plan in mind. Usually there's a goal, but it's something more abstract or compositional in nature; I want to make something red; I want a large central figure; I want to paint a square canvas...Whether or not the painting accomplishes that initial goal is entirely dependent on the resulting studio sessions, organic development and unplanned intricacies, but that's how I usually dive in.

​This painting started with a plan, but was quickly derailed by another image stuck in my mind. The original plan was to do an interior scene based on some recent home improvement we've been doing, namely repainting a few walls with an accent color of golden yellow. It is striking and quickly becoming one of the favorite views inside my house. However, when I got this canvas started, I ran out of yellow about half-way through. The background ended up being subtle variations of oranges and yellows, but it wasn't the solid color I was hoping for. It didn't have the same presence. It wasn't going to work.

Earlier in the week I had seen the painting above by NC Wyeth. I was struck by the repetition of the birds, fish, boats and figures, and enjoyed the contrast between the black water and subjects. The problem was I didn't have a square canvas, so I shelved the idea for later and started the yellow interior...but I couldn't get the fish out of my mind. After a few hours of staring at a yellow background I realized it just wasn't what I intended for the yellow interior...and while I wanted to do a larger square painting for my tribute to the Wyeth I figured that discrepancy  was easier to resolve than the total lack of the color essential to the original idea. Once I accepted that the yellow interior needed, well, yellow, I quit questioning my instincts and painted three red boats.  I added a dock to the left of the canvas that somewhat squared off the main scene and worked two figures amongst the silhouettes of boats. 

It took a number of hours and a few repaints to figure out how I wanted the fish to look, but once a form was found the bottom two boats came together quickly. While adding in eyes I realized the fish and boats took pretty much the same form, and the idea struck to turn the third, top boat into a larger fish with the inclusion of a large eye and netting at the rear. Not only did this add a surreal quality to the overall scene but created a sense of narrative and wonder for the viewer to latch onto; something larger must be at play than a simple depiction of laborers unloading their catch.

The last aspect to be finished was the lower right figure. I have always struggled with adding a detail to my figures (part of the reason I've adopted this "scuba-esque" representation for humans) as I don't want people to get distracted by unintended connections. I wanted this figure to be timeless and stoic but meet the viewers gaze to establish an interaction between the two. What that interaction means, I hope, is built by the viewer and their personal interpretation of the scene overall.