When our family moved to the South in the mid 70's, I fell in love with the slow, easy pace of the rural areas of the Appalachian mountain region. It has become the tempo of my brush. That and the beauty of the rivers and pines are a lucid memory of my days spent exploring the many areas we lived. I love the mystery of it. What's behind this or that corner, or over that hill ... or who lived there and when, or what was that before the Kudzu came. There is magic here.
Now, as my landscapes have become symbolic and the days and seasons allegorical, I have come to love the "edge" of the day: the dawns and the dusks. The contrasting light and spectacle of colors echo one another as if to herald the beginning and end. That is where I am in my landscapes ... wandering through the emotions of what will be or what has been; peering through a veil of light at a memory or a calling. I can only hope to communicate the peace, comfort and optimism I find in the certainty of each new beginning, end and that space in-between.
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