Life Report 

When I paint the objects strewn around my studio—an old hair piece that I attempted to use years ago to hide my baldness after chemotherapy treatments, a picture of myself in a constraining dark navy high school uniform, a twig I picked up one day on a walk—I hardly think about what the significance of those objects are. Rather, I am simply lured into capturing these images because of their intriguing forms and the rhythms they embody.

Only later do I think about what else these images might convey.  Then, almost without exception, I arrive at the thought that no matter how these objects present themselves on a surface level, including the organic abstract forms that I often paint, they are all portraits of myself, an amalgamation of all the emotions including embarrassment, regrets, atonement, and guilt bubbling up from my deepest memories. Some of my wholehearted wishes are also represented there on the canvas.

Long Ago, I stopped feeling expossed and vulnerable when I exhibited these self-potlaits.  I believe I have arrived at a place in my career  where I can stop feeling as bare when I exhibit these self-portraits.  Instead, I have a deep hope that these pieces reflect aspects of my authentic truth—one that has been built layer by layer through my life experiences.