Before I started painting a few years ago, my creative work was limited solely to composing music and writing prose, screenplays, and poetry. The vast majority of this work dealt with explicitly dark and upsetting themes.
The initial discovery of fluid art as a medium offered a much lighter approach. I suddenly had an opportunity to appeal to an audience's sense of beauty and wonder, rather than preying on their fears and doubts. Unfortunately, my first attempt was an ugly, blotchy mess. I was not accustomed to the apparent chaos of physics, chemistry, gravity, nor the infinite unseen variables that create the final form of every fluid art piece that has ever existed. Ugly as it was, I had still created something that could never be replicated by anybody. That caused a stir in me that I did not grasp right away.
As I gained more experience, my penchant for severity leaked into my initial levitous motivation for creating this artwork. I became more and more aware of the concept of such exhaustive, meticulous preparation clashing against the brief, frantic immediacy of the few moments it takes to create the actual paintings themselves. It is a jarring, visceral experience for me.
Today, I use a combination of acrylic, polyurethane, latex, wood stain, and water to explore a rather universal theme: the futile absurdity of obsessive preparation in the face of an outcome that is impossible to foresee. Each piece is a humble acknowledgment that control is a myth. Even so, I still endeavor to reach into this perpetual motion of endless possibility, capture its astounding beauty, and transform it into something quiet and still. A frozen meditation on the forces that govern all things. A reminder that we are at the mercy of a gorgeous and terrifying universe, not the other way around.
I've spent my life all around the greater Cleveland area and currently live ten minutes south of Downtown.