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I think during 1999 I changed dimensions, and left behind a lot of life's experiences which appeared as dominant influences in my work, and began to experience pure form.
I am happiest with the abstracts from that period, and surround myself with them, and what I consider pivotal pieces.
I have no advice for anyone.
I am still capable of drinking too much brandy and wondering if I managed to talk about painting at all to someone whose work I admire tremendously.
I feel unburdened at this point in life: I may do a few paintings I like. I may not. So what? If I sought the "temptress," and found her, I didn't understand the principle by which she exists at all.
In a series of frivolous sketches I sent folk artist and personal hero Donald G. Newman, I included a study for "The Temptation of St. Anthony After Cézanne" in which the devil is looking at his watch. Maybe it's not such a funny image after all: perhaps it's only a matter of time until our best intentions falter, and we are reduced to babbling prayers in the weeds to strange gods who seem to have us by the shirttails.
The intention, however, is still to be a plasmaphysicist who draws and paints in his search for an underlying more basic universe.
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