Painting is something I like to do that I can do. Sometimes it is like stepping into a parade, or joining a dance. Sometimes it is like diving into a dark pool. Sometimes it is like building a bonfire on a plateau. Sometimes it is like going on a blind date. Sometimes it is like a real job. Sometimes it is like a struggle. Sometimes it works.
About the landscapes: this has been a prime area of exploration for me. No subject matter presents more of a technical challenge. And there is nothing more worthwhile to depict than views of the home planet. The most difficult part of it is the acute rendering of discrete detail and textures, as in foliage, geology, water, etc. The rhythm and feel of such stuff has to be transmitted, without showing every leaf or pebble. Because if you try to show too much, it just goes gray. You have to suggest the detail, and let the mind of the viewer fill in. Some people think my landscapes are really detailed, but look closely.
Paintings should show things. A natural response
to a painting is to see it as a revelation of a piece of a continuing universe.
Even if a painting is far from resembling nature, it may operate as a made-over
reality. Reality, that is, which is commented, edited, fantasized, or replaced.
A brick on a sidewalk might not be remarkable, but a painting of it very well
could be. And by recalling and illuminating the space and light and colors of
the brick, the (an) entire cosmos is implicated and implied in the moment of
the brick's appearance. Painting should show everything.