I am a painter because I have always been one. I paint from a bike cart because I could at one time only afford to travel by bike. I choose my subject matter, urban landscape, because it is within range of my bike cart. I seek the truth, and thick description about my world, my city and my neighborhood and myself. The irony of being an artist seeking truth with my last name is not lost on me. I didn't make that name up. But, so that I would never turn my name into an artistic pun, I have always sought truth in my art by avoiding anything that I feel might be contrived. And, artistic truth is elusive indeed. What every artist and, in fact, every person is really trying to achieve is an autobiography, or a legacy. And for the artist especially, this is best when it is thick description. By that I mean the whole truth. Like the brushstrokes of Vincent's face are a window into his psyche. I strive to paint as if every paint stroke is an open portal for all who wish to may peer in. For example, if a young Native American man, living in the city were to start practicing sweat lodge ceremonies, sundances and other Native American ceremonies, he would be a traditionalist. This is thin description. In art this would be like chasing an "ism". But his great grandfather knew no other model of the universe other than the one he got from the sweatlodge since he was a boy. He was a conservative. For him it was thick description. For me, my art is thick description. I once subscribed to the notion that the direct plein air painting was the closest artistic contact between nature and man, and therefore the closest to being sacred. But the neo-realists convinced me that each step of the process is also nature. The process itself is a legitimate part of the painting. One might think that I therefore would use photographic assistance to complete my paintings, rather the opposite is true. Photographs pose too many problems. They isolate a single moment too well, in fact, down to around 1/400 of a second. This freezing action makes the moment so absolute, so historical, that it creates a barrier between the viewer and the scene. By taking weeks, or more to complete a painting, I compress the entire month into the moment depicted in the painting. But since the actual time span depicted is more open, there is less to stop the viewer from re-entering that moment. I try to break the time barrier. Photographs also remove all radiant light, flatten colors and distort perspective. Besides, then I would feel that the best I could achieve would be the best re-interpretation of the photograph paintable. I don't feel that this is enough for me. Any enlarger can do that better. The values of radiant light, when viewed directly, greatly affect color choices. My paintings are not just historical documents. They often don't exactly match landscape that I used as the subject. They are about the passage of time, life, beauty, history and people. They employ all of my education, knowledge, talent and artistic skills to describe these things. I enjoy people. I enjoy the act of being out in the public visually announcing to every car and pedestrian that goes by, that their city is a worthy and beautiful subject for art. I usually set the canvas so that passersby can see the progress as they travel each day. I enjoy playing the part of an artist in a public theater every time I paint. I don't wear a beret, though. Too dated. It tugs on my heart strings when people come up to me while I am working, point into the painting and say, "You know, I live just around the corner there, behind that building". Many artists struggle for self expression in their work. I struggle to remove it. If I don't, then the expression becomes contrived and untrustworthy. I try to remove any autobiographical statement and concentrate on the biography contained in a single moment of everyday light. That it takes about a month to create that moment by being on site each day at the same time when the weather is similar etc., is part of the value that I, as an artist, give to that moment. I deliberately avoid the eternal landscape. I am using cars, signs, buildings, clothing styles and other currently common objects to place the scene at a specific date and time that occurred only once. But despite my effort to keep myself out of the picture, the fact that I must reach all of these places by bicycle, creates a limited personal territory and makes the totality of my work into the ultimate autobiography. Then, as if to remove any doubt, I sign it, and date it when I'm done. The viewer is also compositionally invited in as well. It is easy to remove objects that obstruct access into the composition, or stuff that I find unsightly. I am not seeking an ideal landscape, just one that can be enjoyed and entered without politics or fear. Artistic freedom is a two edged sword. If there are no boundaries, then "pushing the limits" has no meaning. So rather than entering into that debate about the meaning of my life through expressionism, I see expressionism as actually a distraction away from giving my life real meaning. By painting urban scenes from the viewpoint of everyday life, I hope to give life itself artistic validation. I feel that much of today's art is in danger of diminishing artistic soul to that of mere entertainment. If urban landscape artists succeed in elevating ordinary city life to a higher artistic level, then "intellectual appreciation" gets overshadowed by the simple wonder and excitement of being invited into a beautifully painted and familiar landscape. The painting is not a glorification of the scene, but rather a validation of the people that live in it.