On a spring trip where I did a painting at the top (well, nearly) of Crough Patrick I was encouraged to rethink and simplify my palate. Now, provided I don’t have to pack shampoo and conditioner, I can take a painting kit in TSA approved carry on luggage. The bigger problem is blocking out time once I arrive to get out the paints.  This summer, having climbed back down, I am  once again viewing the world from sea level.

To set a place and time truly in my memory, I need to sketch or paint it. Snapping a photo can be done mindlessly and rarely focuses on the particular details that that make that view capture me that day, or holds the depth that is there when I am a part of it. Our environment has overwhelming complexity amplified by our constant motion. There are whole days when we look at everything and see nothing; as a culture we are increasingly frenetic and disjointed. I paint as a way to see things, a way to be where I have been, to hold on to light and air and to tie myself to places and times. This makes each of those places a home to me.