The Process: Media, Subject, & Technique

My work is not a "slice of time"—it is a range of time. To paint outdoors is to enter a dialogue with light, weather, and the shifting shadows of the Pacific Northwest. Here is how I break down the physical and mental process of creating on location.

I. Media: The Tools of the Experience

I choose my media based on the situation, the season, and the specific energy of the day.

• Acrylics: My most accessible and immediate tool. Water is the mixing agent, making it highly responsive. I use Golden Acrylics for their pigment quality. The challenge is the "Sun Clock"—acrylics dry in minutes depending on thickness and sun exposure. You have to be decisive.

• Oils: For vivid color and ease of blending. The downside is the logistical nightmare of transporting wet canvases nomadically. However, Galkyd changed my practice; it thickens the paint to feel more like acrylic and drops the dry time to an hour or two in direct sun.

• Spray Paint: A relic of my interest in street art culture from 15 years ago. I use it to mask and layer in ways impossible with a brush. Using spray paint in a large-scale plein air context allows me to lay down "hard" light and ambient rays with a texture that can’t be replicated. It adds a "hiss" of energy and atmospheric contrast to the traditional layers.

II. Subject: Chasing the Moving Light

I focus on nature, but the real subject is Light and its Shadow.

• Environmental Scouting: Before the brush touches the canvas, I’m reading the sun’s path. I’m asking: Where will the shadows be two hours from now? Shadows are equal to highlights. In plein air, you are painting a moving target; you have to decide beforehand where you want the shadows to "land" in the final piece.

• The Complexity of Water: Water is the ultimate test. It has layers: the ground beneath, the reflections on the surface, and the highlights dancing on top. My "chaotic abstract impressionism" thrives here because water demands that you see all these layers simultaneously.

• The Physicality of Site: Your interaction with the art is controlled by your comfort. I’ve painted in snow, mud, and on my knees for 100+ hours because the canvas was too big for the terrain. If you can’t stand or sit comfortably for days, it shows in the brushwork.

III. Technique: The Unified Surface

I don’t view the landscape as 2D objects stacked behind one another. I view it as a 3D conjunction where everything ripples into everything else.

• The First Layer: I start with a 1-inch or 2-inch brush to lay out the composition. I never judge the painting before the first layer covers the entire surface. Focusing on a single detail too early is a failure to see the bigger picture—a lesson that applies to both art and life.

• Cubist Transitions: Rather than painting "Sky > Tree > Ground," I treat the surface like a stained-glass image. I might paint the tree first, then use the sky to "fill in" the shapes, creating a unified, breathing surface where the background and foreground stop being separate.

• Color as Vision: Up close, a tree isn't "green." It’s hundreds of greys, blues, and browns. I employ Impressionist and Pointillist fundamentals—using unexpected colors to express tiny details that only come together when you step back.

• Rolling with the Change: Art is meant to evolve, not remain consistent. If the weather changes or a mistake happens, I roll with it. The mark of a great artist is taking a change you "don't like" and turning it into a strength of the piece.

Final Thought

My art is a response to being human in a crazy world. I am a high-energy, overthinking individual, and my work translates that internal frequency into a visual language. At 34, with 31 years of art-making behind me, I know my style will continue to lie to me—evolving every time I step back into the woods.